iMfl«i;M!!iHa!l:i!!'!i^!i:tf.i;!!')a<K:'(PS::')';<"iW;;- 


THEOLDTESmMtNl 
AND  MODERN  LIf 

STOP  FORD   A,  BROOK  I:: 


tihvaxy  of  Che  ^eolo^ical  ^tmimvy 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate   of   the 
'"'     -Tnhn  B^  Wiedinger 

Brooke   Q^- 

i832!i9f^°^^°-d  Augustus, 
The  ojd  Tester. 
^_Z il^tament  and  mode 


THE    OLD   TESTAMENT 


AND 


MODERN    LIFE 


THE  OLD  TESTA 


JUN   2    1948 


AND 


MODERN   LIFE 


BY 


STOPFORD  A.  BROOKE 


NEW   YORK 

DODD,  MEAD   AND   COMPANY 

1896 


Copyright,  1896, 
By  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company. 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  Word  of  Criticism    , 7 

I.  The  Call  and  Wandering  of  Abraham     .    .      23 
Preached  4pril  22,  1894 
II.  Abraham  in  Egypt  and  his  Return    ....      39 
Preached  May  20,  1894 

III.  Abraham  the  Warrior 55 

Preached  June  3,  1894 

IV.  Abraham's  Gloom  and  Consolation    ....      71 

Preached  June  10,  1894 

The  Story  of  Hagar 85 

Preached  July  15,  1894 
The  Character  of  Judah 105 

Preached  April  26,  1885 
Freedom  from  Egypt,  1 127 

Preached  March  25,  1894 
Freedom  from  Egypt,  II 143 

Preached  April  1,  1894 
The  Death  of  Moses = 155 

Preached  February  7,  1892 
The  Song  of  Deborah 175 

Preached  February  25,  1894 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Call  of  Samuel,  1 193 

Preached  February  21,  1891 
The  Call  of  Samuel,  II 209 

Preached  March  7,  1894 

I.  David,  the  Shepherd 225 

Preached  January  19,  1890 

II.  The  Courage  of  David 241 

Preached  January  26,  1890 

III.  The  Consecration  of  David 255 

Preached  February  2,  1890 
lEIijafj 

I.  Elijah  on  Carmel 269 

Preached  July  20,  1SS8 

II.  Elijah  on  Horeb 285 

Preached  July  13,  1888 

The  Prophet  and  Prophecy 301 

Preached  October  30,  1892 

The  Message  to  Baruch 317 

Preached  December  23,  1S83 

ECCLESIASTES 335 

Preached  January  26,  1801 


A   WORD   OF  CRITICISM 


A    WORD    OF    CRITICISM 

nr^HE  discourses  which  are  published  in  this  book 
-*-  were  written  on  the  stories  which  collected 
themselves  round  some  of  the  great  names  in  Jewish 
History.  The  earlier  tales,  such  as  those  contained 
in  the  book  of  Genesis  after  the  story  of  Abraham 
begins,  are  partly  mythical,  partly  legendary,  with  a 
few  historical  kernels  embedded  in  them.  In  the 
later  stories,  at  least  in  those  of  them  of  which 
these  discourses  treat,  the  mythical  element  thins 
away,  but  the  legendary  survives.  It  was  necessary, 
in  delivering  these  discourses  from  time  to  time,  to 
begin  each  of  them  with  a  short  disquisition  on 
the  various  elements,  mythical,  legendary,  and 
historical,  contained  in  the  stories ;  and  to  mark,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  various  times  at  which  different 
portions  of  the  completely  edited  tale  were  com- 
posed. These  critical  and  introductory  disquisi- 
tions are  omitted  in  this  book,  and  the  discourses 
enter  at  once  into  the  actual  matter  of  the  stories, 
and  into  their  bearing  on  the  life  of  our  own  souls 

9 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

and  of  the  present  day.  But  this  omission  forces 
me  to  explain,  in  a  short  word  of  criticism,  how  I 
look  upon  these  stories,  and  in  what  way  they  are 
made  the  subjects  of  discourses,  and  how  they  can  be 
applied  to  the  present  day  and  to  present  people. 
And  I  will  beg  my  readers  to  affix  this  general 
critical  statement  to  every  discourse  in  this  book, 
(i.)  Not  one  of  the  stories  here  treated  of  is  taken 
as  historically  true.  Some  facts  generally  underlie 
them,  but  the  older  the  story  the  less  of  any  his- 
torical truth  is  to  be  found  in  it.  The  great  patri-. 
archal  tales  in  the  book  of  Genesis  are  prehistoric, 
no  more  historically  true  than  the  tales  of  Achilles, 
of  iEneas,  of  King  Arthur.  They  are  ancient  Sagas 
about  national  heroes ;  and  they  grew  up  in  a  similar 
way  to  that  in  which  other  heroic  cycles  grew  up  in 
other  nations.  I  cannot  think  that  their  personages 
are  wholly  mythical,  that  Abraham  or  Jacob  were 
sun-heroes,  though  mythical  elements  no  doubt 
filtered  down  into  the  stories.  Nor  can  I  think, 
in  spite  of  some  modern  criticism,  that  Joseph, 
Jacob,  and  the  rest  were  originally  only  the  names 
of  tribes  before  they  became  the  names  of  national 
heroes.  I  do  not  think  we  are  licensed  wholly  to 
deny  that  these  men  may  have  existed  as  real  per- 
sonages, and  that  the  stories  grew  out  of  their  lives. 
We  hold  that  there  was  an  actual  Agamemnon,  an 


A    WORD   OF  CRITICISM 

actual  Siegfried,  an  actual  Charlemagne,  though  we 
do  not  believe  that  the  heroic  stories  which  gathered 
round  them  have  any  historical  reality.  Abraham, 
Isaac,  Jacob,  Joseph  may,  then,  have  existed  as  real 
men,  and  played  their  part  in  the  founding  of  the 
Jewish  race ;  but  their  stories,  as  we  have  them,  are 
as  entirely  legendary  as  those  of  Arthur  or  Siegfried, 
of  Agamemnon  or  Charlemagne ;  and  they  them- 
selves, in  the  stories,  are  legendary  heroes,  not 
historical  personages. 

The  first  tales  told  of  them  were  probably  in  the 
form  of  short  lays  or  narrations  sung  or  recited 
from  camp  to  camp  of  the  wandering  tribes.  These  ; 
were  recast  or  added  to  in  the  course  of  centuries  j 
from  various  quarters,  and  by  various  composers, " 
under  various  influences.  Different  kinds  of  legend- 
ary elements  crept  into  them.  When  they  were  at 
last  reduced  to  writing,  there  were  two  great  parent 
documents,  distinguished  by  the  use  of  two  different 
names  for  God,  and  these  were  again  modified  to 
support  different  parties  or  opinions  in  the  course 
of  Jewish  history.  Finally,  when  a  literary  life  was 
well  set  up  in  the  nation,  and  when  the  nation 
itself,  being  well  settled,  had  taken  its  final  groove, 
some  person,  most  probably  after  the  Exile,  with  a 
sense  of  form,  and  with  clear  national  and  religious 
ideas   and  aims   which   he   manipulated   into  the 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

legends,  wove  them  all  together  into  one  book,  as 
Malory  did  for  the  Arthurian  legends,  and  left  us 
this  Jewish  Saga  of  the  Patriarchs,  the  character  of 
which  is  almost  epic,  the  aim  of  which  is  religious 
and  national  —  an  aim  like  that  of  the  ^Eneid,  —  the 
!  lessons  of  which  are  moral  and  spiritual ;  but  which, 
beyond  all  these  matters,  is  a  work  of  art,  the  most 
valuable  part  of  which  to  the  Jews,  and  to  us,  is  its 
representation  of  men  and  women  with  great 
characters,  of  heroes  of  human  life,  the  noblest  of 
whom  is  Abraham. 

In  his  life  and  in  the  lives  of  the  others  we  see 
clearly  the  two  ideas  by  which  this  late  writer 
directed  the  whole  series  of  stories.  The  first  of 
these  was  —  that  the  Jewish  nation  had  a  glorious, 
even  a  divine  origin,  and  that  from  the  very  begin- 
ning its  nationality  was  destined  to  a  world-wide 
greatness.  Even  when  it  was  in  the  loins  of  only 
one  man,  it  was  conceived  to  be  as  numerous  as  the 
sands  of  the  sea  or  the  stars  of  heaven ;  and,  still 
more  important,  in  its  career  all  nations  of  the  earth 
should  be  blessed.  The  second  was  —  that  its 
founders  were  placed  in  the  closest  possible  relation 
\  to  God;  that  He  looked  after  them,  first  as  persons 
and  with  a  father's  care,  and  secondly  as  founders  of 
'  a  race  whose  religion  was  destined  to  be  the  religion 
of  all  mankind 

12 


A    WORD   OF  CRITICISM 

These  were  the  two  great  ideas  emphasised  by  the 
last  editor  of  the  tales,  but  something  further  must 
be  said  with  regard  to  his  treatment  of  the  religious 
idea.  He  brought  out  his  own  conception  of  God 
and  man,  in  their  relation  each  to  each,  more  by  a 
direction  of  the  whole  tendency  of  the  epic  tale  than 
by  any  vital  change  wrought  in  the  several  stories  he 
had  before  him.  He  sometimes  places  two  accounts, 
which  contradict  one  another,  of  the  same  events, 
side  by  side ;  as,  for  example,  in  the  double  narra- 
tions of  the  Creation  and  the  Flood.  He  had,  then, 
a  certain  reverence  for  his  documents  which  kept  him 
from  altering  them  too  much.  He  knit  them 
together,  but  he  left  them  very  much  as  they  were. 
As  they  were  made  at  different  times  and  places, 
the  result  is  that  we  meet  in  them  with  varying 
ideas  of  God  —  ideas  which  frequently  contradict 
one  another,  spiritual  conflicting  with  material  con- 
ceptions, ancient  with  modern,  harsh  with  loving, 
simple  with  complex.  We  find,  for  example,  the 
pure  monotheistic  idea  of  the  editor  side  by  side 
with  the  monolatrous  idea  of  a  Hebrew  god  who 
exists  only  as  a  national  god  more  powerful  than 
the  gods  of  the  other  nations.  And  many  other  con- 
trasts, equally  striking,  may  be  discovered.  The 
conception,  then,  of  God  in  the  stories  of  Genesis, 
and  indeed  in  the  later  stories,   such  as  those  of 

13 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Moses,  Joshua,  Elijah  and  the  rest,  varies  from 
point  to  point  as  the  period  of  time  or  of  spiritual 
development  varies  at  which  the  different  songs  and 
tales,  out  of  which  the  complete  history  was  made, 
were  composed.  The  last  editor,  then,  was  chary 
of  change,  and  we  owe  him  sincere  thanks  for  this. 
But,  nevertheless,  he  was  destined  to  give  to  the 
whole  series  of  stories  in  Genesis  a  high  religious 
and  spiritual  direction  such  as  belonged  to  his  own 
time,  and  he  did  give  it.  Beyond  all  the  various 
views  of  the  person  and  character  of  the  Hebrew 
deity,  we  have,  dominating  the  stories,  the  clear, 
monotheistic,  spiritual  idea  of  the  editor  concerning 
God  —  the  God  conceived  of  by  the  prophets,  and 
embodied  by  the  Jews  after  the  Captivity.  Perhaps, 
this  direction  was  not  as  consciously  given  as  I  seem 
to  make  it.  But  if  it  were  unconscious  it  would 
be  of  the  same  value  as  if  it  were  conscious.  At 
any  rate,  it  is  there,  and  is  as  plainly  religious  as 
it  is  national. 

When  we  leave  the  book  of  Genesis  and  come  to 
Moses,  Joshua,  Deborah,  David  and  Elijah,  we  get 
nearer  and  nearer,  as  the  dates  advance,  to  pure 
history.  The  actual  national  life  of  the  Jews  begins 
with  Moses.  He  certainly  had  a  true  existence. 
There  was  an  actual  exodus  from  Egypt  of  the 
Hebrews;  there  was  a  wandering,   an  entry  into 

14 


A    WORD   OF  CRITICISM 

Canaan,  a  slow  conquest  and  settlement,  a  time  of 
tribal  governments,  a  concentration  under  David  of 
the  tribes  into  a  nation.     But  the  history  is,  in  far 
more  than  half  of  it,  mixed  up  with  legend,  with  all .. 
the  fancies  and  exaggerations  of  legend.     A  number  \  \ 
of  tales,  built  up  in  song  or  narrative  round   the  \ 
history  of  all  the  leaders  of  the  people,  even  as  far 
as    Elijah,   filled    up  the   outlines   of   their  great 
exploits,  and  especially  of  their  youth.     Moreover, 
the  religious  ideas,   doctrines,  customs,  laws,   and 
ritual  which  were  established  in  the  later  Jewish 
times,  and  especially  after  the  time  of  the  Captiv- 
ity, were  imputed  to  Moses,  to  the  Judges,  to  David, 
and  even  to  the  later  kings ;  things  with  which  they 
had   nothing  whatever  to  do,  and  of   which  they 
knew  nothing  at  all.     There  is,  then,  after  Genesis,^^ 
an  historical  basis  of  fact,  but  legend  and  theologyf 
have  built  upon  it  structures  which  are  unhistorical. 
(ii.)  It  may  now  be  asked  in  what  way  discourses 
can  be  preached  on  matter  which  is  in  itself  histori- 
cally untrue.     The  answer  is  twofold.     First,  the 
matter  is  partly  historical  and  true.     We  have  in 
these  stories,  hidden  away  among  legendary  things 
and  late  theological  and  ritualistic  additions,  the 
views  of  the  various  writers  of  the  tales  concerning 
God  and  man  and  the  relation  of  the  one  to  the  other. 
These  views  change,  as  I  have  said,  from  date  to 

IS 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

date;  but  they  are  clear,  sufficiently  clear  at  least 
for  critics  to  build  up  an  historical  relation  of  the 
development  of  the  early  Hebrew  religion.  We  can 
trace  its  growth  from  the  prehistoric  period  in 
Genesis  to  the  Mosaic  age,  and  from  the  Mosaic 
age,  when  history  began,  to  the  eighth  century, 
when  the  age  of  the  prophets  began.  And  the  criti- 
cal story  of  this  growth  is  history. 

Again,  these  stories  and  the  "historical  books" 
were  finally  shaped  and  edited  after  the  Exile,  and 
we  possess  in  the  direction  given  to  them,  both 
national  and  spiritual,  a  true  exposition,  on  which 
we  can  depend,  of  the  spirit  of  the  religious  writers 
and  literary  men  of  the  time  at  which  they  were 
edited.  What  they  edited  was  sometimes  mythical, 
more  commonly  legendary,  but  the  drift  they  gave 
to  it  was  accurately  representative  of  the  religious 
and  national  feeling  of  the  editors.  And  in  that  we 
have  what  is  historically  true.  In  fact,  we  have  in 
this  creation  into  the  stories  of  a  religious  and 
national  unity  of  development  under  the  sway  of 
two  great  ideas  the  first  attempt  at  a  philosophy  of 
history.  These  are  matters  full  of  subjects  for  a 
preacher. 

Again,  though  the  events  and  personages  of  these 
stories  are  legendary,  yet  the  local  colour,  the  kind 
of  existence,  the  religious,  moral  and  social  temper 

i6 


A    WORD   OF  CRITICISM 

of  the  personages,  the  human  life,  with  its  special 
patriarchal,  tribal  and  race  elements,  are  all  histori- 
cal enough,  even  in  the  early  tales.  The  imagina- 
tive picture  is  the  picture  of  a  manner  of  living 
which  really  existed.  There  is  scarcely  anything, 
independent  of  the  supernatural,  which  is  told  of  the 
lives  of  Abraham,  Jacob,  Moses  or  Elijah  which 
could  not  have  occurred  or  which  is  outside  of  pos- 
sible truth.  The  events  are  legendary,  the  human 
life  is  not.  Indeed,  this  which  I  say  is  more  likely 
to  be  true  of  Oriental  than  of  Western  documents. 
The  type  of  society  in  the  East  remains  from  age 
to  age  almost  unchanged.  The  famous  book,  for 
example,  which  records  the  Arab  life  before  Moham- 
med, has  in  it  scenes,  opinions,  manners  entirely 
analogous,  not  only  to  those  in  the  book  of  Genesis, 
but  also  to  those  we  may  meet  among  the  Arab 
tribes  of  the  present  day.  This,  then,  is  also  his- 
torical, and  it  enables  us  to  illuminate  a  discourse 
with  true  historical  colour,  to  place  the  characters 
of  the  story  in  a  veritable  scenery. 

Lastly,  though  we  do  not  preach  upon  these  stories 
as  history,  we  do  preach  upon  them  as  noble  tales  of 
human  life,  in  the  same  way  as  we  might  preach  on 
the  story  of  Ulysses  in  the  Odyssey,  of  Hercules  in 
his  mythical  legend,  of  Sigurd  the  Volsung,  or  of 
King  Arthur.  Only,  there  is  a  difference  which 
2  17 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

makes  the  epic  tale  of  Genesis  more  worthy  for 
preaching  purposes  than  these  other  stories.  This 
is,  that  the  Genesis  stories,  as  well  as  those  of 
David,  Moses,  and  the  rest,  have  received  a  relig- 
ious direction  from  the  final  editor,  and  were  com- 
posed into  a  whole  by  him  with  the  intention  of 
showing  to  the  world  a  national  religion  which  he 
believed  was  to  become  the  religion  of  the  whole 
of  mankind. 

Beyond  this,  and  belonging  to  the  original 
legends,  the  tales  are  full  of  humanity,  of  various 
characters,  both  of  men  and  women,  of  human  adven- 
tures, temptations;  of  the  natural  joys  and  sorrows 
of  mankind,  of  youth  and  age  and  manhood,  of 
motherhood  and  fatherhood,  of  home,  of  wars  and 
peace,  and  of  all  this  human  life  in  its  relation  to 
God  and  the  soul  of  man.  The  humanity  is  also 
far  more  universal  than  national  or  particular.  The 
editor,  half  poet,  half  prophet,  left,  as  a  great 
genius  does,  the  special  aside,  in  order  to  dwell  on 
that  which  was  common  to  all  mankind.  Moreover, 
the  materials  which  he  used  had  been  so  purged  by 
time  (as  in  all  the  great  tales)  of  the  unnecessary, 
that  the  universality  of  this  humanity  is  most 
delightful,  and  the  subjects  they  suggest  belong  as 
much  to  the  present  day  as  to  the  days  of  Abraham 

i8 


A    WORD   OF  CRITICISM 

and  David.  We  read  our  own  human  experience  in 
the  lives  of  Abraham,  Moses,  David,  as  we  read  it 
in  the  other  great  legend-stories  of  the  world.  We 
ignore  them  as  history,  we  preach  on  them  as  human- 
ity. These  are  the  grounds  on  which  these  dis- 
courses were  written,  and  this  is  the  reason  of  their 
existence. 


19 


ABRAHAM 


I 


I 


THE   CALL   AND   WANDERING   OF 
ABRAHAM 

Genesis  xii.  1-9 

N  this  chapter  of  Genesis  we  step  out  of  the 
realm  of  myth  into  something  which  resem- 
bles but  only  resembles,  history.  The  story,  which 
previously  has  been  concerned  with  the  beginning 
of  man  on  the  earth,  with  his  multiplication  and 
division,  enters  on  a  definite  path  and  narrows 
down  to  the  story  of  one  people.  Henceforth  the 
Bible  is  the  book  of  the  Hebrew  race.  Its  founders 
are  conceived  for  us;  their  adventures  are  minutely 
told;  they  are  given  characters  so  strong,  vivid, 
and  distinct  that  they  live  and  breathe  before  us. 
Each  forms  a  whole,  with  one  individuality,  of 
whom  we  may  make  such  personal  friends  as  we 
make  of  CEdipus  or  Siegfried,  of  Antigone  or 
Brynhild.  Nor  are  their  characters  left  without 
some  historical  interest  in  this  —  that  their  excel- 
lences and  defects  represent  the  excellences  and 

2i3 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

defects  of  the  nation  that  sprang  from  them.  In 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  we  find  the  history  of 
Jewish  work,  Jewish  thought,  and  Jewish  character. 
As  we  read  the  tale  we  might  say;  "The  childhood 
of  this  people  is  the  father  of  its  manhood.  Quali- 
ties are  transmitted,  and  the  characters  of  the  patri- 
archs pass  through  all  the  history  of  the  Jews. "  But 
this  would  assume  that  the  characters,  as  here  repre- 
sented in  the  tale,  were  certainly  the  characters  of 
historical  personages.  This  is  not  true.  The  real 
fact  is  that,  as  the  tale  grew  up,  the  racial  charac- 
teristics of  the  Jews  were  naturally  imputed  to  the 
patriarchs.  It  is  no  wonder,  then,  that  Abraham, 
Isaac,  and  Jacob  exhibit  the  good  and  evil  -qualities 
of  the  Jews.  Those  qualities  were  fully  formed 
when  the  stories  of  the  patriarchs  grew  into  shape, 
and  the  stories  absorbed  them.  We  are  placed, 
then,  in  this  chapter,  by  the  editor,  beside  the 
mountain  well-head  of  the  great  Hebrew  nation,  and 
we  prophesy  the  river.  We  see  a  great  part  of  its 
character,  and  of  that  which  it  was  born  to  bear 
witness  to  in  mankind,  embodied  in  one  man.  Its 
power  of  faith  in  the  invisible,  its  steady  trust  in  a 
mighty  righteousness  beyond  itself,  the  rapid  action 
of  its  faith,  its  obedience,  its  honour,  its  simplicity 
of  life,  its  love  of  hardness  rather  than  luxury,  its 
perseverance,  its  unquenchable  love  of  freedom,  its 

24 


THE    CALL   AND  WANDERLNG   OF  ABRAHAM 

chivalry,  its  sense  of  righteous  conduct  as  the  first  ^' 
thing,    its    prayerfulness,    its    monotheism    in    its'; 
origin.     All  are  represented  in  Abraham ;  almost 
all  the  good  qualities  of  the  people  live  in  him,  as 
many  of  its  evil  qualities  live  in  Jacob  and  in  Isaac.  A 

But  these  qualities  and  beliefs  in  him  represent 
more  than  the  foundation  of  the  character  and  the 
religion  of  a  single  folk,  of  the  Hebrews  alone.  In 
them  also  is  shown  forth  the  foundation  of  the 
religion  of  a  vaster  range  of  the  human  race  —  of 
all  Christians  and  Mohammedans.  Therefore  it  is 
with  something  of  a  sense  of  awe  that  we  stand  in 
this  story  beside  the  source  of  a  great  people  and  of 
great  religions.  We  see  Abraham  in  Chaldaea, 
maturing  in  silence  the  inward  life  which  was 
destined  to  fertilise  the  spirit  of  mankind,  and  liken 
him  to  a  fountain  of  streams  hidden  deep  in  the 
womb  of  the  hills,  accumulating  to  itself  the  filtered 
rains  of  heaven  till  its  force  and  volume  become 
perennial.  We  see  him  again,  suddenly  called  forth 
from  Chaldaea  to  live  a  new  life,  and  image  him 
then  by  the  spring  breaking  forth  from  a  sudden 
rift  and  hurrying  down  the  mountain  side. 

Who,  standing  by  the  rocky  well,  where  first  the 
waters  open  their  way,  could  foretell  that  they  would 
gather  into  them  a  thousand  streams,  and  spread  and 
widen  by  the  deep  pastures  of  the  plains,  and  roll  a 

25 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

fuller  and  a  fuller  tide,  till  the  broad  river  should  call 
cities  to  its  banks,  and  navies  ride  upon  its  breast, 
and  the  business  of  the  world  find  shelter,  work,  and 
passage  on  its  stream  ?  And  who,  standing  by  the 
dark  and  simple  tent  of  Abraham  at  Sichem  and 
Bethel,  could  predict  the  mighty  Jewish  nation? 
Yet  in  both  —  in  the  man  and  in  the  stream  —  there 
was  a  perennial  life.  The  stream  held  inexhaus- 
tible waters  in  its  deep  rock  basins;  the  man  pos- 
sessed inexhaustible  ideas  making  inexhaustible 
action,  and  handed  them  down  in  inexhaustible 
force  from  generation  to  generation.  This  is  the 
first  of  them,  the  mightiest  idea  of  the  world  when 
it  is  believed,  "  I  am  the  Almighty  God ;  walk  thou 
before  me  and  be  thou  perfect."  The  history  of 
humanity  rests  on  that  conception,  is  developed  in 
its  development.  The  everlasting  future  of  the  race 
is  held  within  it. 

But  to  discuss  that  idea  in  its  fulness  as  applicable 
to  the  development  of  humanity  belongs  to  a  lecture 
rather  than  to  a  sermon.  What  we  want  to  hear 
of  from  week  to  week  does  not  concern  the  philo- 
sophy of  progress,  but  the  daily  practice  of  right  feel- 
ing and  the  daily  dwelling  with  inspiring  thoughts. 
What  we  most  need  to  think  of  is  a  noble  life  in  the 
soul,  and  a  daily  life  among  men,  lived  hand-in-hand 
with  God  our  Father.     Therefore  that  on  which  we 

26 


THE   CALL  AND   WANDERING   OF  ABRAHAM 

dwell  in  this  story  is  its  spiritual  side.  We  ask  — 
What  has  this  life  of  Abraham  to  say  to  us  who  are  \| 
living  now?  What  has  his  experience,  as  conceived V 
by  the  writer  of  this  story,  to  say  to  our  inward  life 
with  God,  and  our  outward  life  with  man?  What 
thoughts  for  human  life  does  the  teller  of  the  tale 
send  down  to  us  across  the  centuries  ? 

First,  then,  we  are  told  that  God  spake  to  Abraham 
and  bade  him  depart  from  his  country  and  walk 
before  Him.  The  writer  did  not,  any  more  than 
the  Oriental  of  the  present  day,  imagine  that  God 
spoke  to  the  outward  ear.  "God  has  spoken  to 
me  "  is  a  common  Arab  phrase  to-day  when  a  man 
feels  a  deep  impression  on  his  soul.  Even  we  use 
the  term  —  a  call  from  God,  a  warning  from  God  — 
and  many  a  man  and  woman,  on  whom  the  power 
of  a  great  idea  falls,  has  heard  now,  as  Mohammed 
heard  of  old,  the  call  of  Abraham  —  "  Get  you  forth 
from  your  father's  house  into  another  place,"  and 
hearing  has  obeyed. 

God  speaks  to  His  children  of  the  nineteenth 
century  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  He  spoke  to  | 
Abraham.    A  duty  calls  us ;  a  deep  impression  comes  \ 
from  life  as  we  move  on;  a  book  awakes  our  soul ;  a 
solemn  hour  in  nature's  solitude  bids  us  think  more 
deeply  of  our  doings;  a  hundred  impulses  stir  us  in  \\ 
the  year,  and  all  drive  us,  in  different  ways,  towards 

27 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

I  that  which  Abraham  felt  —  "  Walk  thou  before  me 

'  and  be  perfect."  Who  can  deny  that  these  things 
are  so  ?  Who  can  assert  that  he  has  obeyed  all  the 
demands  they  made  ? 

Some  hear  and  are  moved ;  but  others  forget,  and 
so  the  chances  of  a  noble  life  are  lost.  They  see 
the  right,  they  desire,  like  the  young  ruler,  to  do  the 
more  perfect  thing,  but  they  cannot  give  up  their 
ease.  Or  else,  they  cannot  trust  God,  and  therefore 
cannot  trust  themselves;  or  again,  they  cannot 
muster  strength  of  will.  And  so,  they  stay  in 
Chaldsea  when  they  might  live  with  God  and  for 
mankind  in  the  mountains  of  Canaan.     Alas !  theirs 

I  is  the  worst  sorrow  of  all  —  the  sorrow  of  having 

'I  seen  the  highest,  and  declined  it. 

When  these  voices  of  God  come,  and  the  image 
of  a  diviner  life  is  vouchsafed  to  us,  obey  the  voices, 
and  pursue  the  image.  Faith  should  always  be 
victorious  over  fear ;  the  actions  of  life  should  always 
fulfil  the  conception  of  the  soul. 

So  by  faith  Abraham  departed.  It  is  plain  that 
the  writer  made  this  call  the  cry  of  duty  to  him,  and 
that  the  sacrifice  of  home  to  it  was  made  by  the 

I  old  man  without  one  backward  look.  No  complaint 
is  allotted  to  him,  though  every  ancient  and  dear 

'^  association  was  broken  up.  We  read  the  story 
quietly,  but  a  storm  of  human  grief  and  struggle  is 


!i 

I 
I 

'  28 


THE   CALL   AND  WANDERING   OF  ABRAHAM 

hidden  beneath  its  simple  words.    This  is  an  example  I 
that  calls  to  us  across  the  centuries.     For  we  are! 
also  called  to  be  pilgrims  of  the  invisible  in  the  I 
midst  of  the  visible.     We  are  bid  to  work  and  love  'I 
in  this  world,  but  not  to  be  content  to  belong  to  it 
alone.     We  dare  not  pitch  our  tent  in  the  same 
place  always,  nor  linger  too  long  in  the  pleasant 
valleys,  for  every  year  new  labour  calls  us ;  and  when 
all  labour  is  done  here,  a  new  world  beyond  lies 
before  us,  where  our  destiny  is  to  be  finally  accom- 
plished, and  the  vaster  part  of  our  work  to  be  done. 
We  are  bound  to  sacrifice  ourselves;  we  must  go 
forth  in  faith  from  our  father's  house,  our  kindred, 
from  all  we  love,  that  is,  from  all  the  contentments 
of  earth,  to  pursue  the  ineffable,  to  be  perfect,  to  seek 
the  city  of  God  !     Is  that  inhuman }     No,  no ;  it  is 
only  thus  —  only  in  self-renunciation,  only  in  pursuit 
of  the  perfect  —  that  we  make  comfort,  help,  content 
for  our  fellow-men,  and  a  home  for  their  weary  spirit. 

But  though  Abraham  went  forth  alone  and  sorrow-  | 
ful,  the  great  writer  who  told  his  tale  did  not  leave 
him  without  glorious  support  in  his  adventure;  and 
the   support   is  the  same  which  we  are  given   in  | 
similar  times  in  our  life;  the  only  support  which  '; 
lasts  and  lives  and  makes  us  conqueror.     A  flood  ' 
of  new,  loving,  and  divine  ideas  had  come  streaming 
into  his  soul.     God  had  given  them,  and  the  proof 

29 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

that  he  had  given  them  is  that  they  were  all  imma- 
terial, unworldly,  and  self-forgetting.  It  is  the 
possession  of  such  ideas  which  uplifts  a  man  above 
the  world,  above  the  pride  of  life,  above  the  greed 
and  cravings  of  his  own  heart,  into  life  for  the  whole 
race,  into  harmony  with  eternal  love.  That  which 
early  love,  secured  at  last,  does  for  our  youth,  the 
seizing  of  a  noble  and  loving  conception  the  truth 
of  which  we  believe  and  for  which  we  are  ready  to 
live  and  die,  does  for  the  older  man.  It  re-creates 
the  world ;  all  things  in  the  idea  become  new.  The 
old  life,  dusty  and  weary,  melts  away  in  its  morning 
light;  sorrow  changes  into  resolution,  solitude  is 
filled  with  joy;  the  future  is  peopled  with  a  crowd 
of  hopes  that  are  realised  in  the  present  by  faith. 
We  are  assured  of  the  victory  of  love,  whatever 
sorrow  fall  upon  our  earthly  life.  We  possess  a 
thing,  immortal  and  divine,  a  very  thought  of  God, 
living  in  which  we  live  in  God,  living  in  which  we 
know  we  cannot  die.  The  earth  is  filled  now  with 
such  ideas.  Never  were  they  more  plentiful,  more 
splendid,  more  inspiring,  more  loving.  We  have  but 
to  put  forth  our  hand  and  take  these  divine  creatures 
to  our  bosom ;  and  all  we  need  to  find  them  by,  and 
to  live  in  them,  and  to  conquer  with  them,  is  to 
forget  ourselves  and  to  love  the  world  of  men. 
The  writer  of  the  tale  makes  Abraham  hear  two 
30 


THE   CALL   AND  WANDERING   OF  ABRAHAM 

of  these  ideas.  He  was  to  be  the  founder  of  a 
mighty  people,  and  the  conception  drew  him  out 
of  himself  and  ruled  his  life.  "In  thee  shall  all 
families  of  the  earth  be  blessed."  It  was  another 
mighty  thought  with  which  to  fill  the  soul  of  a  wan- 
dering chieftain.  It  carried  him  beyond  himself 
into  the  larger  interests  of  all  mankind.  "All 
families  of  the  earth "  was  more  than  a  merely 
Jewish,  a  merely  national  thought.  It  mingled 
Abraham's  mind  with  the  mind  of  God,  the  Uni- 
versal Father,  in  whom  all  nations  were  one,  and 
loved.  It  is  no  wonder  that  Jesus,  who  knew  this 
phrase,  and  saw  how  clearly  it  was  in  harmony 
with  His  universal  thought,  said  to  the  Jews,  lost 
in  exclusiveness :  "  Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  to 
see  my  day,  and  he  saw  it  and  was  glad."  Where 
the  teller  of  this  tale  attained  that  thought  and  how 
he  came  to  give  it  to  Abraham,  I  cannot  say;  but 
it  was  a  wonderful  thing  for  a  Jew,  even  after  the 
prophets  had  begun  their  work,  to  think  of,  and 
declare.  We  ourselves  cannot  have  a  higher  one, 
nor  one  better  fitted  to  rule  our  lives.  There  is  not 
one  of  us  who  ought  not,  however  small  our  influence 
or  our  business  be,  to  say  to  ourselves:  "In  me 
shall  all  families  of  the  earth  be  blessed.  For  that 
I  will  live  and  die." 

Again,  the  story  tells  us  that  the  giving  of  great 
31 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

thoughts  is  the  work  of  God.  Therefore,  open  your 
heart  to  Him,  that  He  may  fill  it  with  His  ideas. 
Do  not  shut  its  doors,  that  you  may  attend  only  to 
the  things  of  earthly  care,  of  wealth,  ambition,  or 
pleasure.  Seek  first,  said  Jesus,  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Ask  God  to  speak  to  you,  to  inspire  you 
with  the  thoughts  that  make  for  love.  Life  changes 
then;  we  act  nobly  for  we  feel  rightly,  and  we 
cannot  help  acting.  God  bloweth  with  His  wind, 
and  the  waters  flow. 

Under  these  inspirations  Abraham  began  a  new 
life,  utterly  different  from  that  of  a  settled  home  — 
a  life  of  wandering;  and  it  seems  clear  that  the 
story-teller  made  out  of  his  materials  a  kind  of 
allegory  of  the  pilgrim  life  of  the  soul,  even  while 
he  believed  the  tale  he  told.  So,  indeed,  many 
centuries  after,  it  came  to  be  considered.  The 
writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  expressed  in 
his  symbolism  of  the  pilgrim  life  of  Abraham  that 
which  was  universally  felt,  that  which  is  felt  to-day, 
with  regard  to  this  tale.  "  By  faith  Abraham,  when 
he  was  called  to  go  out  into  a  place  which  he  should 
afterwards  receive  for  an  inheritance,  obeyed ;  and 
he  went  out,  not  knowing  whither  he  went;  for 
he  looked  for  a  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God;  and  confessed  that  he 
was  a  stranger  and  pilgrim  on  the  earth."     The 

32 


THE   CALL   AND   WANDERING   OF  ABRAHAM 

Story  brings  him  first  to  Shechem,  one  of  the  great 
national  centres  in  after  times  of  Jewish  history. 
There  the  early  assemblies  were  held,  there  was  the 
place  of  coronations;  there  was  the  capital  of  the 
northern  kingdom;  there  the  well  of  Jacob,  where 
the  scene  of  the  story  of  the  woman  of  Samaria  is 
laid.  The  place  is  consecrated  to  Jewish  and 
Christian  thought,  but  its  first  consecration  was 
made  in  Abraham's  story.  It  was  a  rich,  moist 
valley,  full  of  fountains  and  rills,  and  sweet  with 
the  singing  of  birds.  The  deep  groves  of  ilex,  the 
terebinths  of  Moreh,  were  wet  with  the  mists  that 
made  the  colouring  of  the  vale  soft  and  lovely,  w^hen 
Abraham  pitched  his  tents  in  it  for  shelter  and  for 
water.  The  land  was  new  to  him;  the  scenery,  the 
mode  of  life,  were  new;  his  ideas,  his  hopes,  his 
work,  were  new.  And  here,  in  his  first  resting- 
place,  he  is  made  to  throw  all  he  thought  at  the  feet 
of  his  God  on  the  first  altar  of  Palestine. 

It  is  not  often,  and  more  is  the  pity,  that  in  the 
later  third  of  life,  we  begin,  in  these  modern  days, 
a  new  life.  For  we  cling  to  the  work  of  our  man- 
hood, or  it  clings  to  us,  even  when  we  are  wearied 
with  it.  But  some  are  forced  into  a  new  life,  or 
choose  it,  being  called  of  God.  And  to  us  then, 
wandering  like  Abraham  into  a  fresh  world,  some 
of  the  early  animation  of  youth  is  given  —  a  quaint 
3  33 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

clear  morning  air,  like  those  days  of  autumn  which 
seem  to  belong  to  spring ;  and  the  valley  where  we 
pitch  our  wandering  tent  is  full  of  streams  and  of 
singing  birds.  Then,  if  we  are  not  apart  from  Jesus 
Christ,  if  His  spirit  of  love  and  worship  is  with  us, 
God  meets  us,  and  speaks  to  us  the  very  thing  He 
said  to  Abraham  in  the  story:  "Look  around  you, 
the  land  is  yours,  I  give  it  to  you.  All  this  new 
field  of  labour  is  open  to  you;  joy  and  rest  will  be 
yours  if  you  labour  in  it  for  the  seed  of  man,  if  you 
have  faith  in  me,  the  Father  of  men." 

No  matter  how  late  in  life  we  begin  new  work, 
we  shall  win  its  fruits,  and  have  life  and  power  and 
joy  in  it,  if  we  do  it  believing  that  God  has  given 
it  us  to  do.  We  are  sure  then  of  His  immeasurable 
life  behind  us,  and  the  surety  gives  power.  We 
know  that  we  cannot  fail  in  Him,  and  that  certainty 
puts  life  into  everything  we  do.  We  are  filled  with 
l(  His  love,  and  our  work  becomes  work  for  others 
'  in  forgetfulness  of  self,  and  this  is  incarnate  joy. 
Therefore,  at  the  outset  of  this  changed  life  we 
build  in  our  souls  an  altar  to  the  Lord  of  mankind 
and  consecrate  the  new  land  to  Him.  And  surely 
that  is  wise;  for  as  the  new  life  has  something  of 
youth  in  it,  it  will  also  have  something  of  the 
dangers  of  youth  in  it,  and  our  temptations,  sins,  all 
that  we  call  our  world,  share  also  in  the  freshened 

34 


THE   CALL  AND    WANDERING   OF  ABRAHAM 

life.  The  strangeness  of  it  excites,  and  the  excite- 
ment brings  new  temptation  with  it.  Experience  is 
of  little  use,  for  of  the  things  in  it  we  have  had  no 
experience.  We  are  also  tempted  just  as  if  we  were 
young,  and  the  peril  of  such  temptation  is  great,  for 
if  we  fall,  we  have  not  as  much  power  of  recovery 
as  when  we  were  really  young.  Therefore,  if  we 
are  sent,  when  two-thirds  of  our  course  is  run,  like 
Abraham,  into  a  new  life,  let  us  dedicate  it,  like 
him,  in  humility  and  awe  to  God.  Let  us  build  our 
altar  within,  and  call  upon  His  name. 

Lastly,  the  story  goes  on  —  and  with  it  the  sym- 
bolism may  also  go  on  —  to  tell  us  that  Abraham 
was  forced  away  from  this  happy  place  in  the  valley. 
Some  trouble  with  the  Canaanite  drove  him  to  a 
safer  and  more  easily  defended  place  in  the  hill- 
country.  He  set  up  his  tent  on  the  rocky  summit 
of  the  mount  of  Bethel,  whence,  from  the  edge  of 
the  ilex-groves,  east  and  west  below  him,  he  could 
see  the  land.  On  one  side  lay  the  rich  Jordan 
valley,  on  the  other  his  sight  ranged  over  the  fertile 
valley  of  Western  Palestine,  beyond  Carmel  to  the 
great  sea.  Henceforth  Abraham's  life  was  the  life 
of  the  mountains,  hardy,  vigorous,  unenfeebled  by 
luxury,  alone  with  God.  And  there,  on  the  top  of 
this  natural  fortress,  he  built  another  altar,  and 
called  again  on  the  name  of  the  Lord.     This  was  the 

35 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

second  step  in  this  Pilgrim's  Progress.  And  it  is 
not  without  its  symbolism. ^  When  Abraham  had 
settled  in  Sichem,  he  thought :  "  Here  then  I  will 
stay  and  rest."  The  place  was  lovely  with  light 
and  shade  and  streams,  and  there  would  creep  into 
his  heart  the  song  of  the  lotus-eating  folk:  ''Weary 
is  life.  I  have  had  enough  of  toil.  I  will  do  no 
more.      Slumber  and  rest  are  sweet." 

Well,  while  the  peace  lasts,  it  is  wise  to  enjoy  it. 
We  do  not  often  get  it  in  this  hurried  life  of  ours. 
Inward  peace  we  may  have,  deep  as  the  starry 
space,  but  not  outward  peace  for  long.  So,  when 
we  can  lie  beneath  the  ilex  trees,  and  hear  the 
sunny  streams  run  down  the  hill  in  music,  let  us 
take  the  repose,  and  be  thankful,  and  remember 
God.  For  it  will  not  endure.  Were  it  to  endure, 
so  lazy  are  we,  we  should  lose  our  power  to  grow 

1  "  Symbolism  ?  One  may  be  accused  of  making  the  stor}'  into 
an  allegory  I "  Well,  so  it  is  in  a  certain  sense.  It  is  not  the  facts 
of  the  life  of  Abraham :  it  is  the  story  of  Abraham  as  it  was  built 
up  by  the  human  mind  in  the  process  of  centuries,  during  which 
time,  as  is  the  case  with  other  great  stories,  that  which  is  particular 
is  on  the  whole  sifted  out,  and  that  which  is  universally  human  re- 
mains. The  little  special  events  that  historians  love,  those  things 
which  are,  in  their  eyes,  real  and  accurate  and  important,  time  and 
the  human  soul  dismiss ;  and  the  truly  important  is  kept  —  those 
portions  of  the  tale  which  can  be  made  into  symbols  of  human  life, 
into  images  of  the  soul.  Time,  working  on  the  life  of  a  great  man 
or  a  great  period,  is  never  a  critical  historian  :  he  is  always  a  poet. 


THE   CALL   AND   WANDERING   OF  ABRAHAM 

within  and  to  act  without;  we  should  learn  to  care 
for  ourselves  and  not  for  others,  and  earn  in  that 
the  ruin  of  the  soul.  Therefore  our  Father,  who 
loves  our  spiritual  vigour  and  perfection,  sends  us 
from  the  rivers  of  Sichem  to  the  rocks  of  Bethel; 
from  our  Paradise  to  till  the  land  of  thistles  and  of 
thorns.  There  is  no  continued  repose  for  us  until 
all  is  done.  What  the  prophet  makes  God  say  of 
his  Word,  God  says  to  every  one  of  us  who,  each, 
are  a  Word  of  God :  ''  It  shall  not  return  unto  me 
void;  it  shall  accomplish  the  thing  for  the  which  I 
sent  it. "  And  our  best  repose  is,  finally,  in  obedience 
to  the  call  of  "Forward,"  to  take  up  our  tent,  and 
go  forth  to  live,  as  Abraham  lived,  for  those  who 
are  to  come  after  us. 

In  such  obedience  we  find  the  inward  peace. 
But  even  that  is  only  ours  to  the  full  when  we  are 
perfect  in  love,  when  we  rejoice  to  do  what  we  must 
do.  It  is  uncommon  for  man  to  have  that  absolute 
joy  on  earth.  For  the  most  of  us  are  driven  like 
Abraham,  without  his  unbroken  faith,  from  place  to 
place;  and  it  is  only  when  every  earthly  power 
is  worn  out,  that  we  pass  through  the  last  strife  into 
the  peace  of  God  — the  pilgrimage  closed  in  home, 
the  weariness  in  rest. 


37 


II 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND  HIS 
RETURN 

Genesis  xii.  lo ;  xiii 

'T^HE  story  of  Abraham  having  spoken  of  his 
^  call  and  of  his  earliest  life  in  Canaan  at 
Sichem  and  at  Bethel,  now  tells  of  his  visit  to 
Egypt,  his  return  to  Bethel,  and  his  parting  with 
Lot. 

First,  then,  the  tale  goes  that  famine  came  into  the 
land  of  Canaan,  and  Abraham  was  driven  to  Egypt 
to  seek  bread.  It  was  a  strange  change  for  the 
patriarch,  and  a  strange  episode  is  bound  up  with  it. 
The  story  brings  him  from  his  quiet  pastoral  life 
into  the  midst  of  the  vastest  and  most  citied  civili- 
sation of  the  world  of  that  time,  from  the  greatest 
simplicity  to  the  greatest  splendour.  When  he 
saw  the  mighty  temples  and  palaces,  and  the 
sacred  river  rolling  by  pyramids  and  towns,  vast 
reservoirs  and  multitudinous  gardens,  he  thought 
of  his  tent  on  the  rock  of  Bethel,  and  we  can  well 

39 


THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

imagine  that  a  grave  sense  of  awe  fell  upon  him  —  not 
fear,  but  such  solemn  thought  as  enters  into  a  great 
soul  when  it  is,  after  years  of  lonely  life,  brought 
into  touch  with  an  overwhelming  crowd  of  humanity 
in  a  vast  city.  Wordsworth  felt  this  deep  emotion 
and  well  he  describes  it  in  the  seventh  book  of  "  The 
Prelude,"  well  he  brings  forth  its  lesson  to  the  soul. 
Such  a  shock  would  shake  the  whole  of  Abraham's 
life  into  new  solution.  In  the  multitude  of  questions, 
such  as  pressed  on  Wordsworth,  Abraham  might 
well  lose  for  a  time  that  steady  faith  in  a  divine 
leader  of  his  life,  on  which  the  writer  of  the  tale 
insists.  If  that  were  so,  the  episode  of  his  conduct 
with  regard  to  his  wife  would  be  natural  enough  at 
this  place  in  the  story.  It  is  the  act  of  a  man  off  his 
balance.  He  feared,  we  are  told,  that  when  the  king 
saw  how  lovely  Sarah  was,  he  himself  should  be 
slain  that  the  king  might  possess  her.  Therefore,  as 
Sarah  was  his  half  sister,  he  persuaded  her  to  be 
false  under  the  semblance  of  truth.  "  Say,  I  pray 
thee,  that  thou  art  my  sister." 

Fear  and  falsehood  for  the  sake  of  life  are  very 
ii  common  and  very  human;  but  we  expected  better 
things  from  Abraham.  Not  even  the  standard  of 
the  age  can  excuse  this  lie,  or  palliate  its  shame. 
It  sinned  against  that  very  standard.  It  was  a 
violation  of  Arab  honour.     And  the  King  of  Egypt, 

40 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND   II IS  RETURN 

when  he  found  it  out,  blamed' Abraham  for  not 
having  been  true  to  his  traditionary  gentlehood. 
And  indeed  it  was  a  bad  business.  A  frank  false- 
hood which  places  the  liar  in  danger,  which  runs 
the  whole  risk  of  the  lie,  has  an  element  of  daring 
in  it  which  modifies  our  blame  of  it;  but  the  base- 
ness of  saying  one  thing  as  truth,  and  meaning 
another  which  is  not  truth;  of  being  true  in  the 
word  and  false  in  the  thought;  of  lying  and  not 
taking  the  risk  of  the  lie:  that  was  the  wrong  of 
Abraham,   and  he  knew  it  to  be  wrong. 

We  condemn  him ;  but  have  we  never  coasted  by 
his  falsehood,  never  been  wrecked  on  it  ourselves } 
Have  we  never,  through  fear  of  ill  to  life,  or  position, 
answered  some  question  in  words,  which,  though 
true  generally,  were  untrue  to  the  particular  point 
of  inquiry.-^  In  business,  politics,  in  society,  in 
journalism,  or  money  matters,  how  often  have  we  told 
half  the  truth,  keeping  back  that  part  which  would 
damage  ourselves,  salving  our  conscience,  as  Abra- 
ham did,  by  weighing  the  half  truth  against  the 
hidden  lie }  At  every  point  this  is  a  shameful  thing ; 
it  is  a  double  falsehood.  There  is  not  only  the  deceit 
that  entraps  the  world  into  belief  in  us,  but  also  the 
self-craft  which,  honeying  over  the  devil  himself, 
pretends  to  our  own  consciences  that  we  have  not  told 
a  lie.     And  in  the  end  there  is  no  kind  of  lie  which 

41 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

does  more  harm  to  men  than  this.  It  is  the  very  lie 
of  those  false  directors  and  false  companies  v/hich 
have  all  over  the  business-world  murdered  the  poor. 
Abraham,  again,  did  not  risk  his  own  life,  but  he 
risked  his  wife's  honour.  The  story  makes  the 
Pharaoh  reproach  him  with  that  shame.  There  is 
self-sacrifice  in  the  lie  told  to  save  another's  life. 
The  friend  who  takes  on  him  a  guilt  not  his  own,  for 
the  sake  of  his  friend;  the  mother  who  accuses  her- 
self of  treason  to  save  her  son ;  the  man  who  gives 
his  sweetheart  her  desire  by  a  direct  falsehood 
which  injures  himself  —  these  suffer  some  inward 
penalty,  for  Truth  exacts  her  sanctions;  but  the 
falsehood  is  so  mixed  with  nobility  that  it  loses  its 
power  to  hurt  mankind,  and  it  is  sometimes  neces- 
sary. But  to  involve  a  woman  in  possible  dis- 
honour, to  risk  a  great  wrong  to  true  love  —  and  all 
for  the  sake  of  one's  own  life — that  was  a  marvellous 
baseness  to  introduce  into  so  mighty  and  venerable  a 
character  as  Abraham's;  and  warns  us,  who  are 
weaker  than  he,  to  watch  our  characters  with  care, 
lest,  lured  by  fear  of  pain  or  death,  we  bring,  by 
lying,  reproach  upon  another.  "Let  him  that 
thinketh  he  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall."  That 
is  the  lesson  of  this  story,  and  it  seems  to  have  been 
much  needed  in  the  East,  for  a  similar  tale  —  as  if  it 
were  a  common  case — is  told  again  of  Abraham,  and 

42 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND  HIS  RETURN 

then  of  Isaac.  In  fact,  it  was  or  became  a  Semitic 
folk  tale. 

There  is  yet  another  interest  in  the  tale  applicable 
to  our  spiritual  life.  No  man  who  had  perfect  faith 
in  a  divine  Friend  would  have  taken  refuge  in  a 
safety  of  this  kind.  Is  it  not  curious  that  Abraham 
(whose  highest  quality  the  story  makes  to  be  faith 
in  God)  should  be  made  to  fail,  especially  in  that 
grace.?  It  seems  so,  but  only  seems.  Such  a 
special  failure  is  quite  in  accord  with  experience. 
Moses,  meekest  of  men,  is  betrayed  into  ungovern- 
able passion.  Peter,  the  soldier-heart,  betrays  for 
fear  his  Master's  love.  Elijah,  iron  in  perseverance 
and  in  fortitude,  sinks  into  unmanly  despair  of 
life.  It  is  true,  it  only  happens  once,  but  it 
happens  terribly. 

And  the  reason  for  it  is  not  difficult  to  find.  A 
man  can  rarely  remain  unconscious  of  his  special 
excellence.  At  last  he  grows  so  secure  of  not  fail- 
ing on  this  side  of  his  nature,  that  he  leaves  it  to 
take  care  of  itself.  And  then,  all  of  a  moment,  his 
fortress  is  taken.  The  story  of  the  taking  of  the 
Castle  of  Edinburgh  has  a  thousand  analogies.  The 
defenders  thought  it  safe  where  the  steep  precipice 
made  its  strength.  All  the  weak  portions  of  the 
walls  were  watched;  this  was  not.  Then,  one  dark 
night,  in  storm  and  driving  rain,  a  band  of  daring 

43 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

men  crept  slowly  up  the  angry  cliff,  and  the  impos- 
sible became  a  fact.  The  castle  was  seized  by  the 
foe.  And  Abraham,  and  we,  are  stormed  by  evil  at 
the  very  point  where  we  deemed  it  impossible  that 
evil  could  come  in.  Unguarded  strength  is  double 
\  weakness.  Our  natural  gifts  and  graces  are  the  points 
/l where  our  greatest  danger  lies;  and  when  they  are 
\  lovercome  by  evil,  they  are  our  greatest  shame. 
'  *'Be  sober  then,  be  vigilant,"  and  all  the  more 
because  failure  in  that  for  which  men  justly  praise 
and  honour  us  does  a  great  wrong  to  men.  It 
injures  the  virtue  in  which  we  fail;  it  harms  the 
causes  we  defend  and  love.  ''Watch  and  pray," 
said  our  Master,  who  knew  the  human  heart,  "  lest 
ye  enter  into  temptation."  Yet  the  conclusion  the 
writer  puts  to  his  story  is  a  strange  one,  and  seems 
to  contradict  this  lesson.  For  it  is  Pharaoh  who  is 
punished,  and  not  Abraham.  Pharaoh  was  led  into  a 
mistake,  and  suffers  for  it.  Abraham,  who  had  done 
the  wrong,  goes  away  enriched.  It  is  the  way  often 
of  the  course  of  this  world;  and  it  does  not  seem 
just.  But  when  we  look  deeper,  from  the  point  of 
view,  not  of  this  writer,  but  of  Jesus,  we  see  the  real 
truth  of  things.  The  true  punishment  of  Abraham 
was  within.  Outwardly  enriched,  he  was  inwardly 
jAmade  poor.  All  his  wealth  could  not  put  to  sleep 
'\the  worm  which  gnawed  his  heart.  He  had  broken 
\  44 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND   HIS  RETURN 

the  truth;  he  had  failed  in  faith;  he  had  been  false 
to  true  love.      Not  punished?     Imagine  his  shame 
as  he  returned  ;  profound  and  terrible  to  a  character 
like  his.      His  conscience  was  not,  like  Pharaoh's, \ 
clear.     Be  sure  right  is  done,  retribution  is  enacted.  \ 
Abraham  had  the  worst  of  it.      It  is  not  in  the  world  I 
without,    but   in  the   world   within,    that  the  true  j 
punishments  of  sin  are  wrought. 

And  now,  with  this  pain  in  his  heart,  Abraham 
returned  to  Bethel,  from  the  quick  whirl  and  deaf- 
ening din  of  men  to  the  silent  rocks  and  the  still 
heavens  and  the  simple  life  and  the  altar  he  had 
made.  When  he  saw  that  grassy  mound  again,  dedi- 
cated, as  the  writer  makes  it,  without  an  image,  to 
the  invisible  and  one  God,  how  commonplace,  how 
needless  would  seem  to  him  then  the  vast  turmoil 
of  Egypt,  its  multitudinous  passions  and  thoughts 
incessantly  interclashing,  its  manifold  clans  of 
diverse  gods,  as  he  rebuilt  his  altar,  called  again 
on  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  reconsecrated  his 
life  to  God,  who  had  called  him  to  be  perfect. 
The  quiet  life  brought  its  lessons.  As  he  sat  by 
the  tent  door,  and  heard  the  night-wind  in  the  rocks, 
God  spoke  to  him  again  out  of  the  starry  sky ;  the 
old  religious  feelings  filled  his  soul,  and  he  for- 
got the  confusion  of  Egypt.  The  daily  duties  of  a 
simple  world  purified  his  heart;  pain  passed   into 

45 


THE    OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

healing  penitence ;  soothing  came  out  of  the  stilhiess 
of  nature,  and  Abraham  said,  "  God  forgives ;  I  will 
forgive  myself.  Life  is  yet  before  me ;  I  will  con- 
secrate its  work  to  God  and  my  people. " 

So  runs  the  tale,  and  so  runs  our  life  again  and 
again.  There  is  scarcely  one  of  us  who  has  not  had 
the  same  experience.  We  have  been  away  from  our 
true  life,  in  the  noise  and  trouble  of  self-seeking  in 
the  world ;  seeing  and  hearing  nothing  but  the  things 
and  the  desires  that  pass  away,  pursuing  wealth,  pur- 
suing vain  knowledge,  overdone  with  multitudinous 
interests,  or  with  speculations  so  manifold  about  God 
that  He  seems  divided  into  a  hundred  forms;  living 
apart  from  the  true,  the  simple,  the  useful  life;  lov- 
ing ourselves  and  not  others;  loving  wrong  and  not 
right;  yielding  to  fear  and  falsehood;  until,  at  last, 
in  the  quiet  of  illness,  or  in  some  silent  hour  among 
the  hills  or  by  the  sea,  or  in  some  place  where  we 
once  lived  a  simple,  sacred  life,  we  remember  what 
we  really  are,  what  our  true  duties  call  on  us  to  do, 
what  love  is,  what  blessedness  there  was  in  that  clear 
conscience  which  sees  that  love  of  man  is  the  master 
of  being,  what  splendour  in  the  soul  it  is  to  have  the 
simple  faith  of  God's  fatherhood,  and  therefore  of 
man's  brotherhood.  And,  after  a  time,  we  have  Abra- 
ham's experience.  When  our  pain  is  v/orked  through, 
the  healing,  strengthening  influences  have  their  way ; 

46 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND  HIS  RETURN 

and  again  with  a  chastened  heart,  in  the  wisdom  of 
humility,  we  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord.  We  re- 
build our  altar ;  we  dedicate  our  life  again  to  God  and 
man,  and  we  break  down  no  more.  Our  lesson  is 
learned.  We  seek  no  longer  the  world  of  self.  Our 
life  is  the  mountain  life  of  Abraham.  For  Abraham 
did  not  fail  again  v/hen  once  more  he  was  tempted 
by  the  world,  not  by  fear,  but  by  luxury.  We  see, 
when  the  trial  came,  how  noble  he  had  become. 

For  now,  the  story  deepens  in  power  and  interest, 
and  in  the  sculpture  of  a  great  character.  A  quar- 
rel arose  between  the  herdsmen  of  Lot  and  Abraham ; 
and  in  human  affairs  the  quarrels  of  servants  finally 
involve  the  masters.  All  the  world  is  linked  to- 
gether into  a  family,  though  nine-tenths  of  the 
world  deny  this  truth.  It  is  no  use  denying  it,  and 
the  truth  acts  sharply  in  punishment  on  those  who 
contradict  it.  Systematic  denial  of  it  by  nations, 
by  classes,  by  families,  by  societies,  means  fighting, 
misery,  famine,  desolation,  cruelty,  barbarism,  revo- 
lution, the  red  flag  of  blood  and  fire  and  social 
hatred  waving  in  the  hurricane  of  war.  The  power- 
ful in  the  quarrel  crush  the  weak,  until  the  weak, 
becoming  powerful,  crush  their  foes  in  turn.  In 
national  and  social  quarrels  this  is  the  way  of  the 
thing  we  call  civilisation,  the  ignoble  result  of  the 
principle  that  self-interest  is  the  law  of  progress. 

47 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Never,  never,  will  the  world  be  at  peace,  nor  will 
human  progress  ever  move  like  a  star,  in  ordered  and 
musical  advance,  without  haste  and  yet  without  rest, 
till,  on  the  principles  that  the  law  of  human  progress 
is  self-surrender  and  that  brotherhood  is  the  ground 
of  all  national  and  social  action,  we  take,  in  every 
quarrel,  the  way  of  Abraham  with  Lot. 

He  was  older  than  Lot.  He  was  the  better  man ; 
the  father  of  both  clans,  the  head  of  the  house.  At 
every  point  he  had  the  right  to  choose,  the  right  to 
command ;  and  he  waived  every  right  for  the  sake  of 
courtesy  and  peace  and  love.  "  Choose,  my  brother; 
we  must  part ;  let  us  part  in  peace.  What  you  leave 
to  me,  I  will  have.  I  am  content  with  that  which 
you  do  not  want.  All  I  wish  is  your  love.  That  is 
my  dearest  possession."  At  home,  abroad,  that  is 
the  right  way  of  action;  the  right  way,  in  my 
opinion,  for  nations,  societies,  and  classes,  in  politi- 
cal and  social  troubles ;  the  only  way  of  progress, 
the  root  of  civilisation.  It  is  not  believed,  it  is  not 
done.  It  is  the  laughter  of  the  world.  But  the 
laughter  ends  in  the  shrieking  of  war,  and  in  the 
misery  of  our  social  systems.  The  time  of  change 
may  come;  but  when  it  comes  it  wdll  be  brought 
about  by  the  spirit  of  Abraham  here,  by  the  spirit 
of  Jesus  Christ. 

These  two  then  stood  on  the  rocky  summit  of 
48 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND  HIS  RETURN 

Bethel  and  looked  down  on  either  side,  east  and 
west.  East  rose  the  sharp-toothed  range  of  hills 
above  Jericho.  Beyond  them  lay  the  deep  valley 
of  the  Jordan,  and  Lot  knew,  by  report,  of  the 
wealthy  land  of  the  cities  of  the  plain.  Westward 
and  southward  were  the  naked  hills  of  Judah,  and 
the  rocky  passes  where  Benjamin  afterwards  housed 
like  a  wolf,  and  the  range  where  Hebron  couched  —  a 
difficult  and  rugged  land,  dwelt  in  by  rude  tribes ;  a 
pilgrim's  mountain  country.  And  here  the  choice 
was  made,  and  the  story  takes  a  more  solemn  turn, 
and  is  weighty  with  a  deeper  moral,  a  moral  driven 
home  by  the  writer  to  the  grave  issues  of  life,  and 
charged  with  a  religious  humanity. 

Lot  chose  the  round  of  the  Jordan  and  pitched  his 
tent  towards  Sodom,  though  he  knew  that  the  in- 
dwellers  of  the  fertile  plain  were  evil  men  and 
women,  lost  in  luxury.  He  chose  ease  and  comfort 
and  prosperity  with  the  chances  of  sin.  But  his 
pleasure  and  comfort  were  dearly  purchased.  He 
paid  the  price.  His  life  darkened  into  blackness 
before  he  died  ;  a  solitary  man,  degraded,  enervated, 
deceived,  and  all  his  family  corrupt. 

But  Abraham  kept  the  rugged  mountain  country, 

and  would  have  kept  it,  even  had  Lot  also  chosen 

another  part  of  it ;  those  mountain  lands,  whose  voice 

is  the  voice  of  freedom,  the  nurse  of  the  manlier  vir- 

4  49 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LITE 

tues ;  whose  winds  blew  strength  of  character  into  his 
heart,  whose  difficulties  deepened  courage,  fortitude, 
and  experience;  in  whose  solitudes  God  was  heard 
speaking  to  His  servant.  His  pleasant  land  was  not 
in  the  luxurious  places  of  the  earth.  Like  Moham- 
med, but  with  a  gentler,  humbler  spirit,  Abraham 
fixed  his  heart  on  high.  "  Man  can  have  but  one 
Paradise,"  said  the  camel  driver  of  Mecca,  as  on  the 
last  spur  of  the  rocky  ridge  the  glorious  view  of  the 
Damascus  valley  broke  upon  him,  "  and  mine  is  fixed 
above."  And  he  turned  away.  That  moment  set- 
tled the  life  of  the  future  Prophet.  This  moment 
secured  the  fate  and  character  of  Abraham.  Hence- 
forth, while  he  did  the  duties  of  his  world,  he  was 
the  pilgrim  of  the  invisible,  who  looked  for  a  city 
that  had  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  was 
God.  And  so  the  maker  of  the  tale  meant  him  to 
be.  He  had  his  reward.  God  filled  his  heart.  He 
heard  the  almighty  love  and  comfort  speak  to  him; 
he  felt  God  as  his  friend.  You  hear  how  clearly 
the  writer  puts  this  spiritual  view.  The  moment 
Abraham  chose  the  simple  life,  lofty  and  unreproved, 
with  God,  the  teller  of  the  tale  makes  God  speak  to 
him.  "  Lift  up  thine  eyes,  and  look  from  the  place 
where  thou  art,  northward  and  southward,  eastward 
and  westward:  for  all  the  land  that  thou  seest,  to 
thee  will   I   give  it,  and  to  thy  seed  forever;  and  I 

so 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND  HIS  RETURN 

will  make  thy  seed  as  the  dust  of  the  earth  for  mul- 
titude. Arise,  walk  through  the  land  in  the  length 
and  the  breadth  of  it,  for  I  will  give  it  to  thee." 
A  spiritual  reward  for  a  spiritual  act ;  the  possession 
of  an  exalted  thought  —  the  thought  of  the  mighty 
people  which  were  to  flow  from  him.  For  the 
country  was  not  his,  save  in  spiritual  possession, 
in  the  thought  of  its  belonging  to  his  seed  after  him. 
And  in  that  thought  Abraham  lived  the  uplifting  life 
of  faith,  such  faith  as  some  of  us  have  in  the  glory 
of  the  race  which  shall  come  after  us  and  inherit  the 
land  by  joy.  No  actual  possession  of  the  earth  spoiled 
or  tainted  that  life,  as  he  wandered  to  and  fro.  No; 
there  was  not  one  solitary  touch  of  the  world  in  his 
heart  from  now  until  he  died. 

These  things  then  —  the  mountain  spirit  with  its 
attendant  freedom,  the  natural  simplicity  of  the 
pastoral  life,  wrought  other  fruits,  such  as  we  may 
justly  call  reward.  They  contributed  to  the  up- 
building into  finished  force  and  charm  that  grave, 
easy,  courteous,  noble  character,  stately  and  strong, 
of  sublime  simplicity,  which  has  made  the  world 
accept  the  phrase,  that  Abraham  was  the  friend  of 
God.  Whatever  else  our  story-teller  has  done,  he  has 
done  this  eminently.  In  his  character  of  Abraham,  he 
has  uplifted  our  whole  conception  of  humanity;  and 
to  do  that  so  long  ago,  to  hand  down  that  great  tra- 

51 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

dition  to  the  reverence  and  aspiration  of  mankind,  to 
give  this  impulse  and  passion  to  men  and  women  and 
children,  was  to  do  a  greater  and  more  useful  thing 
than  to  make  a  thousand  inventions  for  material 
progress.  Verily,  the  poets  and  story-tellers  who 
image  forth  noble  and  beautiful  human  life  and 
character  have,  while  they  represent  the  true  rewards 
of  others,  their  one  immortal  and  marvellous  reward. 

Lastly,  Abraham  is  represented  as  having  an  out- 
look into  the  future.  He  felt  that  his  race  at  least 
was  immortal  in  God,  and  that  God  would  look  after 
it,  and  send  it  further  revelations.  This  was  all  that 
the  story-teller  could  probably  conceive  concerning 
his  hero  —  a  limited  idea. 

If  Abraham  were  indeed  a  real  personage,  as  he 
might  well  have  been,  and  had  lived  in  Chaldaea  and 
Egypt,  he  might  have  had  a  greater  hope  than  this 
—  the  hope  of  immortal  life  beyond  the  grave  for  man 
and  for  himself ;  and  Christ  and  the  Jewish  Christians 
were  so  impressed  with  his  story,  that  they  imputed 
this  belief  to  Abraham,  so  mighty  seemed  his  soul  to 
them.  "  Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  my  day, 
and  saw  it  and  was  glad. "  ''  He  looked  for  a  better,  a 
heavenly  land,"  says  the  writer  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews.  It  may  be,  then,  that  this  hero  of  ours, 
when  often  weary  of  pilgrimage  he  sighed  and  thought 
of  rest,  thought  also  of  another  land,  the  land  of  eter- 

53 


ABRAHAM  IN  EGYPT  AND  HIS  RETURN 

nal  joy  and  love,   where  the  pilgrims  of  earth  lay  -,  l 
down  their  staff  and  shoes,  and  are  at  home  for  ever.    Y 
If  so,  it  brings  him  nearer  to  us  who  belong  to  the 
hopes  and  faith  of  Jesus  Christ. 

And  it  is  certainly  true  that  at  the  time  when  the 
story  was  last  edited,  the  Jews  had  begun  to  con- 
ceive the  doctrine  of  immortality.  From  that,  which 
the  editor  may  have  stolen  into  the  story,  we  may 
draw  a  conclusion  to  our  discourse  fitted  for  a  world 
on  which  a  higher  truth  has  shone  in  Christ  than 
that  which  even  the  prophets  saw. 

When  we  come  to  the  turning  points  of  life,  to  the 
heights  whence  we  see  two  ways  of  being  —  the ; 
mountain  path  with  God,  the  primrose  path  of  ease 
and  selfish  comfort  —  we  will  choose  with  Abraham 
and  not  with  Lot.  If  indeed  we  take  the  choice  of 
Lot,  we  shall  win  the  world,  but  with  it,  inward 
weakness,  solitude  at  the  end,  and,  perhaps,  Lot's 
degradation.  But  if  we  take  Abraham's  choice,  we 
shall  have  God  in  the  heart,  friendship  with  the 
Holiest,  immortal  love,  mighty  thoughts,  sweet 
emotions  which  will  clothe  the  soul  in  garments 
wrought  of  the  gold  of  divine  imagination;  our  life 
will  move  men  on  to  nobler  ends;  our  character 
deepen  into  stateliness  of  being,  into  all  the  gifts  and 
graces  of  the  manhood  which  is  divine  in  Jesus 
Christ. 

53 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

And  with  greatness  of  character  and  God's  life 
within,  the  greater  faiths  of  Christ  will  slowly  per- 
fect themselves  in  our  soul.  We  shall  come  to  believe 
in  the  regenerated  future  of  mankind.  As  Abraham 
rejoiced  to  see  Christ's  day,  so  shall  we  rejoice  to  see 
the  day  of  the  Christ  which  is  to  be.  The  universal 
life  we  feel  true,  for  the  whole  world  will  finally 
add  itself  to  our  own  life.  Knowing  that  God  is 
within  us,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  resist  the  spiritual 
proof  of  immortal  being  which  inward  likeness  to 
God  has  made  for  us.  "I  cannot  die,"  we  will  say 
in  the  very  arms  of  death.  "  I  look  for  a  city  that 
hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God. " 


54 


Ill 

ABRAHAM   THE   WARRIOR 

Genesis  xiv 

TT7E  left  Abraham  at  Bethel  among  the  rocks; 
^^  we  find  him  now  at  the  oak-grave  of  Mamre 
which  is  in  Hebron,  and  there  he  built  another 
altar  to  the  Lord.  This  place,  on  the  high  ground 
above  two  valleys  which  meet  below,  is  made  by 
the  story-teller  Abraham's  chief  resting-place  in 
Palestine,  and  near  it  he  afterwards  bought,  when 
Sarah  died,  the  only  piece  of  land  he  called  his  own, 
the  cave  of  Machpelah,  where  he  buried  Sarah,  and 
where  after  him  Isaac  and  Rebekah,  Leah  and  Jacob, 
were  laid  to  rest.  The  homely  presence  of  the 
ancestral  burying  place  made  Hebron  more  sacred  to 
Abraham  than  any  other  dwelling  in  the  land. 
Here  only,  perhaps,  he  realised  that  he  was  not 
quite  a  wanderer  and  a  pilgrim  upon  earth.  All 
that  the  English  squire  feels  when  passing  at  morn 
or  even  through  the  churchyard  of  his  native  place, 
where  his  own  people  have  been  laid  in  honour  and 

55 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

in  God  from  generation  to  generation,  Araham  felt 
in  anticipation  when,  sitting  in  old  age  at  his  tent 
door,  he  looked  on  the  dark  rock  with  its  caves  over- 
shadowed by  the  ilex  grove.  We  know  how  mighty 
was  this  ancient  human  feeling  when  we  remember 
that  Jacob,  in  another  part  of  the  story,  dying  far  off 
in  a  foreign  land,  was  borne  all  the  way  from  Egypt 
to  be  buried  with  his  fathers  in  this  piece  of  hallowed 
ground,  that  Joseph  gave  commandment  that  his 
bones,  after  many  generations,  should  be  placed 
beside  his  forefathers  in  Shechem.  In  such  an 
emotion  and  command  the  Jewish  patriarch  and  the 
English  farmer  are  at  one.  Nay,  all  who  know  what 
family  love  and  honour  mean  —  and  it  is  the  shame 
of  our  civilisation  that  many  cannot  know  it  —  are  in 
every  nation  united  in  this  great  and  sweet  affection. 
In  it,  we  grasp  the  hand  of  Abraham,  and  realise  the 
unity  and  continuity  of  humanity.  A  noble  thought 
and  a  power  in  us!  one  of  the  great  and  simple 
things  on  which  the  progress  of  mankind  is  fed; 
most  dearly  beloved  by  those  who  know  that  in  the 
revelation  of  our  Master  Jesus  all  nations  and  kin- 
dreds and  tongues  are  one,  one  in  childhood,  one  in 
brotherhood,  and  one  in  ancestry. 

Tradition  still  makes  the  place  sacred  to  thought 
and  feeling.  The  Arab  name  of  Yieoxorv-— El Khalil 
—  the  city  of   the   Friend  of   God,   enshrines  the 

56 


ABRAHAM   THE    WARRIOR 

memory  of  him  who  was  called  the  friend  of  God, 
and  was  the  friend  of  man.  A  large  circuit  of 
ancient  masonry  still  marks  the  spot  where  the  great 
terebinth  stood  even  in  the  time  of  Josephus, 
under  whose  shadow  men  said  Abraham's  tent  was 
pitched,  near  which  lay  the  well  which  fed  the 
encampment  with  water,  and  which  still  affords  its 
freshness  to  the  parched  and  wearied  traveller.  A 
Mussulman  mosque,  a  Christian  church,  stand  even 
now  round  the  entrance  of  the  double  cave  of 
Machpelah,  and  at  least  preserve  the  memory  of  the 
grey  fathers  of  the  Jewish  religion  and  our  own. 

Here,  then,  the  story  places  Abraham;  and  the 
first  striking  event  which  enters  into  the  tale  of  his 
life  in  this  place  is  the  invasion  of  the  valley  of 
the  Jordan  by  some  Eastern  kings,  and  the  rescue 
of  the  captives  and  the  spoil  by  Abraham.  It  is  a 
remarkable  story,  and  comes  nearer  to  the  substance 
of  history  than  the  rest  of  the  tale.  One  of  the  oldest 
records  in  this  book,  it  has  been  inserted  into  the 
tale  very  much  as  the  editor  found  it  in  the  ancient 
manuscripts.  A  single  exception,  however,  to  this 
great  age  must  be  mentioned.  It  is  the  story  of 
Melchisedek.  This  is  plainly  invented  and  intro- 
duced by  an  editor  who  wished  to  exalt  the  priest- 
hood of  Jerusalem,  and  to  make  by  this  legend  a 
quasi-historical  basis  for  the  reverence  and  tithes 

57 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

they  claimed  from  the  rest  of  the  Jewish  cities  and 
people. 

Our  interest  does  not  lie,  however,  in  the  story 
of  the  war-deed  as  history.  Of  how  far  the  tale  is 
true  we  know  only  a  little  at  present.  What  does 
interest  us  is  how  the  writer  of  this  epic  tale  conceives 
the  character  of  his  hero  in  this  dashing  episode, 
and  what  were  the  manners  of  an  Oriental  chief  in 
council  and  in  war.  Here,  for  the  only  time,  we 
see  Abraham  as  a  warrior. 

The  kings  of  the  East  swept  down  on  the  cities  of 
the  Jordan  valley  which  had  refused  to  pay  them 
tribute.  They  overthrew  the  kings  of  Sodom  and  the 
other  towns,  made  them  and  their  people  captives, 
and  carried  off  great  spoil.  Among  the  other  captives 
was  Lot,  who  now  lived  at  Sodom.  News  of  this 
came  to  Abraham  at  Mamre,  and  the  story  tells  how 
his  quiet  heart  leaped  into  flame.  He  called  his 
allies  together,  Mamre,  Eschol  and  Aner,  chiefs  of 
neighbouring  tribes,  took  their  counsel,  gathered  all 
his  folk  together,  and  the  bands  of  his  friends,  and, 
without  one  instant  of  delay,  pursued  the  northern 
army  of  the  kings  day  and  night  at  speed.  He 
overtook  them  at  Dan,  far  in  the  north  of  Canaan, 
divided  his  men  into  three  companies,  and  in  the 
dead  of  night,  while  his  foes  lay  sleeping  and 
heavy  after  their  feast,  fell   upon  them  on   three 

58 


ABRAHAM   THE    WARRIOR 

sides,  and  in  this  splendid  surprise  shattered  them 
with  panic  and  the  sword.  They  fled  in  terror  past 
Damascus  to  Hobah  on  its  north;  but  Abraham 
unwearied,  and  like  a  great  general,  who  follows  up 
his  thunder-stroke  with  lightning  speed,  pursued 
them  till  he  had  rescued  all  the  spoil,  all  the  captives, 
and  Lot  among  the  rest.  This  was  the  gest  of 
Abraham,  and  the  legend  of  it  was  never  forgotten 
in  Israel,  nor  the  warrior  qualities  displayed  in  it. 
The  moment  the  news  from  Sodom  arrived,  it 
found  Abraham  prepared  with  help.  He  had  knit 
round  him,  by  his  generous  conduct  of  life,  keen  and 
ready  allies  —  the  first  thing  a  settler  who  has  to 
defend  his  settlement  has  to  do.  A  selfish,  greedy 
captain,  or  a  nation  without  generosity,  thinking  of 
their  personal  advantage  alone,  has  no  power  to  make 
faithful  allies.  That  spirit  of  magnanimity  which  was 
Abraham's  is  the  spirit  which  secures  a  settlement, 
and  faithful  comrades  among  a  people  as  certainly 
as  the  mere  commercial  spirit  destroys  both.  As  long 
as  England,  in  her  colonisation  of  the  wild  countries 
of  the  earth,  has  men  like  Abraham  to  lead  her 
advance,  she  will  justly  win  her  outlying  places ;  but 
if  the  trading  and  the  grasping  spirit  pervade  her 
work,  she  will  fail  and  deserve  to  fail;  for  then  she 
is  a  curse  to  progress.  Abraham  had  faithful  com- 
rades now,  and  they  threw  in  their  lot  with  him  at 

59 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

once.  They  knew  their  man,  knew  that  he  needed 
and  wished  for  nothing  for  himself.  It  puts  us  in 
mind  of  a  hundred  stories  of  our  great  soldiers  in 
the  frontier  wars  of  India.  It  makes  us  ask  with 
trouble  if  some  of  our  latest  work  in  countries  where 
we  colonise,  is  not  replacing  this  spirit  of  careless 
magnanimity  by  the  spirit  which  is  opposed  to  it  — 
by  that  careful  smallness  of  soul  which  the  desire 
to  make  money  engenders. 

We  see  how  indifferent  and  noble  Abraham' s  action 
was  after  the  battle.  He  had  done  all  the  work.  All 
the  spoil  was  his  due,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
time.  The  King  of  Sodom  recognised  the  debt,  and 
only  begged  the  captives  back.  "Give  me  the 
persons,  and  keep  the  goods."  But  the  great- 
hearted chief  replied  :  "  I  have  sworn,  lifting  up  my 
hand,  by  Jehovah,  the  Master  of  heaven  and  earth, 
that  I  will  keep  nothing  that  is  thine  or  thy  people's ; 
no,  not  so  much  as  a  thread  or  a  shoe-latchet.  Thou 
shalt  never  say  that  Abraham  grew  rich  in  this 
fashion.  Only  what  the  young  men  have  eaten,  and 
what  the  share  may  be  of  my  comrades  —  Mamre, 
Aner,  and  Eshcol  —  shall  be  ours.  That  they  will 
take,  but  I  will  take  nothing." 

This  is  the  high  uplifted  spirit  which  wins  the 
hearts  of  nations  and  of  comrades;  which  initiates 
nobly,  and  continues  splendidly,  great  efforts  and 

60 


ABRAHAM   THE    WARRIOR 

great  causes.  It  is  the  spirit  which  makes  a  nation 
great  and  useful  to  the  whole  of  humanity;  which 
should  be  also  at  the  root  of  our  daily  life,  even  of 
our  daily  business.  It  is  too  much  overwhelmed 
to-day  by  that  commercial  spirit,  whose  theory  is 
that  self-interest  is  the  driving-wheel  of  human 
life.  Therefore,  it  behoves  us  all,  if  we  have  any 
real  love  of  mankind,  to  make  the  magnanimous,  and 
not  the  greedy  spirit,  the  guide  of  our  own  personal 
life;  to  leave  behind  us  at  least  the  tradition  that  we 
loved  honour  (for  this  carelessness  of  self-interest  is 
the  root  of  honour)  more  than  possessions ;  that  w  nen 
we  won  goods  we  gave  them  away;  that  when  we 
might  have  claimed  much  and  stood  on  our  rights, 
we  claimed  nothing,  no,  not  a  shoe-string;  that  when 
we  were  asked  to  run  a  great  risk  to  help  another, 
or  to  give  great  gifts,  as  Abraham  did  to  Melchisedek 
in  order  to  help  an  ideal  cause,  we  ran  our  risk  or 
gave  our  goods  with  an  open  heart,  despising  all 
wealth  but  the  welfare  of  others;  refusing  to  be 
made  rich  at  the  expense  of  others,  and  preferring 
with  all  our  heart  the  free,  unencumbered,  uncraving 
life  of  the  mountain-liberty  of  Abraham  to  the  life 
of  selfish  luxury  which  Lot  lived  in  Sodom.  This 
is  to  hand  on  a  tradition  and  a  spirit  which  will 
breathe  strength  and  nobility  into  men  from  genera- 
tion to  generation,  and  which,  observed  by  many  men 

6i 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

in  a  nation,  will  make  that  people  great  in  the  hearts 
of  its  own  folk  and  glorious  in  the  memories  of  men. 
To  live  such  a  life  is  to  love  the  human  race. 

Think  only  how  this  part  of  Abraham's  character 
has  travelled  over  a  thousand  thousand  generations, 
and  laid  its  power  for  good  and  for  honour  on  them 
all.  Every  noble  Jew  felt  it  breathing  in  him,  every 
generous  Mohammedan  feels  it  to  this  day.  The 
whole  of  Christendom  has  loved,  admired,  and  rev- 
erenced it.  It  has  saved  endless  folk  from  the 
greedy  spirit  in  the  world.  All  the  work  of  com- 
merce, all  the  inventions  of  science,  are  as  nothing 
in  the  progress  of  mankind,  compared  to  the  sowing 
lof  this  spirit  in  the  furrows  of  the  field  of  humanity. 

This  is  the  main  lesson  of  the  tale,  but  it  leaves 
another  in  our  minds.  A  crisis  demanding  action 
came  in  Abraham's  life.  How  does  the  story-teller 
show  that  he  met  it.'*  Did  this  spirit  of  un-self- 
interest  make  him  unpractical?  On  the  contrary; 
for  when  a  man  is  not  thinking  of  his  self-interest, 
he  has  time  to  think  of  what  is  to  be  done  for 
another,  at  what  time  help  is  to  be  given,  or  how 
action  is  to  be  taken.  And  Abraham  v.'as  striking 
his  iron  within  five  minutes  of  the  tidings  from 
the  valley.  He  met  his  difficulties,  first  by  quick 
counsel,  then  by  getting  his  folk  to  stand  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  and  then  by  the  swiftest  action,  taken  on 

62 


ABRAHAM  THE    WARRIOR 

the  instant,   and   pursued   without   a  pause   until 
the  deed  was  done. 

This   is   what   delights   us   in   the   story.     The 
spirit  of  human  help  was  in  Abraham,  and  the  hands 
did  what  the  spirit  called  for  with  flying  ardour.| 
For  want  of  this  speed  enterprises  of  great  pith  ancfj 
m.oment  fail.     For  want  of  this  sudden  fire  of  deed,y 
after  resolute  counsel  has  been  taken,  how  often  havej 
we  lost  the  good  we  might  have  done  in  life;  howl 
often  have  we  failed  to  help   men,  to  deliver  thelj 
captives  of  wrong,   to  rescue  the  spoil  from   the  I 
cheater,   to  restore  peace  to* the  family  or  to  our! 
society,  to  establish  our  cause  for  the  sake  of  man, 
to  win  the  crown  of  saving  men !     We  go  on  taking  /  \ 
counsel  till  the  hour  is  past ;  we  delay  acting  till    | 
action  is  of  no  use;  or  we  take  no  counsel,  and,    ll 
having  no  wise  plan,  break  down  in  action ;  or  we    !;| 
act  alone,   not  having  previously  made  trusty  and     \ 
faithful    comrades,    not   having   previously  gained     \ 
them  by  proving  that  we  want  nothing  for  ourselves. 
Unsupported  then,  having  no  plan,  we  linger  in  our      i 
tent,  and  when  we  do  resolve  to  act,  it  is  too  late.     '  j 
The   kings   of  the  East  have   reached   their   own    \  \ 
country;  the  captives  are  slaves;  the  spoil  is  not    I  I 
rescued.     The  opportunity  is  lost. 

On  the  contrary,   at  every  crisis  we  should  act 
like  Abraham;  consult  quietly  but  at  speed,  knit    I 

63  I 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

round  us  all  who  can  act  with  us,  and  pursue  day 

jj  and  night,  with  unrelaxing  swiftness,  till  we  surprise 

7  the  camp  where  the  enemy  sleeps  secure.     The  story 

is  of  actual  war,  and  well  it  would  be  if  in  all  our 

wars  we  had,  like  Nelson  and  a  hundred  other  great 

captains,  practised  the  tactics  of  Abraham;  but  the 

lesson  of  his  action  belongs  to  other  spheres  of  life 

than  war.     There  is  indeed  no  crisis  in  the  life  of  the 

world,  in  our  own  daily  life,  however  small  it  be,  to 

which  it  does  not  apply.   When  you  have  taken  coun- 

j|  sel,  when  you  have  formed  your  plan  —  put  it  into 

p  form,   taking  all  the  risk,  with  the  speed  of  light- 

If  ning;  and  carry  it  out  to  the  end,  waiting  till  all  is 

over  to  remember  weariness.    We  can  rest  when  the 

I  iwork  is  done,  but  not  till  then.      Self-interest  often 

^  kioes  all  this  for  itself;  but  we,  who  are  working  for 

bthers,  are  bound  all  the  more  to  do  it  for  them. 

Lastly  on  this  point,  when  you  have  won  the  day, 

j  ^  remember,    if   material    goods  have   fallen    to  you 

li  through  your  act,  keep  none  of  them.      Give  them 

"I  all  away.     To  become  more  rich  by  doing  good  is 

scarcely  possible,  because  to  do  good  is  to  benefit 

others,  not  yourself.     But  to  do  good  with  the  hope 

of  becoming  more  rich,  there  is  nothing  baser  than 

that.     It  robs  your  action  of  all  its  use;  it  makes 

the  noble  ignoble;  it  makes  humanity  ashamed  of 

you,  and  of  itself;  it  stains  the  virtues  in  the  eyes 

64 


ABRAHAM  THE    WARRIOR 

of  men.  Rather  swear  to  Almighty  God  that  you 
will  keep  nothing  out  of  what  you  have  gained  for 
others,  nor  make  any  money  beyond  your  just  wage 
out  of  your  reputation  for  good  works,  not  a  thread, 
not  a  shoe-string.  Let  your  hands  be  clean,  and 
your  honour  pure. 

Moreover,    the    lesson    is   not    apart    from   the 
spiritual  world  within  us.      It  often  happens  that 
some  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  soul  are  put  under 
tribute,  and  enslaved  by  evil  forms  of  the  passions 
or  the  appetites,  and  finally  carried  away  captive.  ^ 
Unless  we  bring  them  back  from  this  slavery,  we  A 
are  men  who  are  maimed  for  life.     And  this  crisis!  ': 
comes  in  the  inward  life,  when  revenge,  hate,  false |  | 
love,  fear,  sloth,  pride,  avarice  and  violent  appetite,  \  \ 
when  any  one  of  these  rises  to  such  a  height  as  to 
dominate  over  the  whole  character,  to  seize  on  all 
our  thoughts,  to  subject  all  our  feelings,  to  ruin 
the  uses  of  life,  to  lead  us  to  give  up  our  duties  to 
men,  and  to  look  on  God  as  our  enemy. 

There  is  scarcely  one  of  us  who  in  some  way  or 
another  has  not  been  touched  or  mastered  by  this 
experience.     Well,    when   the   mischief  has  been 
wrought,  and  we  are  awake  to  it  —  seeing  half  the  /f 
soul  made  captive  and  half  the  virtues  slain  —  then!! 
swiftness  and  unremitting  march  are  our  only  salva-  I 
tion.    Let  the  will  arise  then,  like  Abraham,  from  its  \ 
5  65  ^ 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AXD   MODERN  LIFE 

sleep.  Take  counsel  with  God  your  Father,  whose 
spirit  dwells  within  you ;  let  not  one  instant  of  delay 
hold  you  back  from  prayer  for  His  power  and  His 
love  to  be  with  you.  Call  all  the  virtues,  all  the 
graces  He  has  given  you  to  the  side  of  the  will,  call 
all  who  have  not  been  enslaved;  rally  the  powers  of 
the  soul  to  your  side,  knit  them  together  in  one 
strong  effort,  and  act  with  holy  swiftness  against 
the  evil  thing.  Pursue  it  night  and  day  with  un- 
mitigated fervour,  till  it  is  conquered  and  slain, 
till  all  the  inward  powers  it  has  taken  captive  are 
rescued  and  brought  back  to  their  true  homes,  to 
their  true  duties.  Speed  is  everything  then,  unvio- 
lated  speed.  Delay  the  effort,  waste  your  time  in 
mourning  over  wrong,  play  with  resolution,  do  your 
1  work  gradually,  and  you  are  crippled  for  life,  or 
victimised  altogether  by  the  tyrant  craving  or  the 
tyrant  passion.  The  promptitude  of  Abraham  is, 
even  in  the  inward  life,  the  salvation  of  the  soul. 

And  if  —  to  carry  the  lesson  into  general  life  — 
there  come  a  time  in  your  life  as  a  soldier  of  human- 
ity and  of  Jesus  Christ,  when  the  cause  you  have 
supported  seems  all  but  ruined  by  events,  when  the 
powers  of  the  worldly  life  are  gathered  against  it,  and 
have  carried  it  away  captive  —  why  then,  it  is  no  time 
for  delay.  Having  taken  all  counsel  with  God  and 
yourself,  march  straight  to  your  end,  take  every  risk, 

66 


ABRAHAM  THE    WARRIOR 

proclaim  immediately  on  that  side  you  stand,  go  with 
three  hundred  against  ten  thousand,  go  alone  if  need 
be,  and  be  in  the  very  heart  of  the  crisis,  master  of  ' 
your  own  will,  and  speeding  to  your  purpose.  What  •  | 
you  have  to  save  and  strengthen  is  not  yourself,!] 
what  happens  to  you  does  not  count.  The  cause,  || 
the  duty,  the  thing  God  has  given  you  to  do  f or  | 
man,  that  is  the  only  matter  to  be  considered. 

Such  a  crisis  came  to  our  Master  Jesus.  All  the 
people  had  fallen  away  from  Him.  The  very  first 
principles  of  His  mission,  of  His  conception  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  had  been  rejected  by  His  followers. 
The  priestly  and  political  parties  of  His  nation  had 
joined  against  His  ideas;  the  whole  worldly  spirit 
was  opponent  to  His  cause.  He  was  far  away  in  the 
north  of  Palestine  when  this  conviction  came  clearly 
home  to  His  thoughts.  To  delay,  to  hang  back  then, 
would  be  to  lose  all.  What  did  He  do .?  He  threw 
Himself  in  solemn  prayer  upon  His  Father.  That 
tradition  of  His  transfiguration  on  the  slopes  of 
Hermon  embodies  a  real  moment  of  His  soul  at  this 
crisis  of  His  life.  He  gathered  His  strength  from 
God,  and  then,  without  one  moment's  pause.  He  set 
forth,  day  and  night,  for  the  centre  of  things,  to 
risk  everything  for  the  cause  He  believed  to  be  the 
redemption  of  the  human  race.  Steadfastly  He  went 
up  to  Jerusalem.     There  He  was  slain,  but  there  also 

67 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  great  battle  of  humanity  was  won.  There  the 
captives  of  sin  and  of  the  world  were  delivered. 
There  death  rose  into  life  of  the  soul  of  man. 
Ardour  and  prudence,  swiftness  and  courage,  met 
and  mingled  in  that  mighty  action.  And  the  spirit 
of  it  was  the  spirit  of  Abraham.  There  was  not 
in  it  one  trace  of  the  desire  to  get  good  for  self,  but 
wholly  to  gain  life  for  others.  This  is  our  lesson, 
our  example,  and  our  inspiration. 

Lastly  —  to  get  back  for  a  moment  to  the  story 
itself — it  is  a  warrior  deed  like  this  of  Abraham's, 
done  in  his  magnanimous  spirit,  which  gives  life, 
moral  strength  and  imaginative  joy  to  the  heart  of  a 
nation,  makes  and  keeps  it  great.  This  war  legend 
of  Abraham's  burned  like  a  fire  in  the  soul  of  the 
Jewish  people.  Its  tradition  nerved  their  arms,  and 
set  their  courage  on  fire,  in  all  the  critical  hours  of 
their  fate.  Its  spirit  entered  into  all  their  heroes. 
Grasping  and  selfish  as  the  Jewish  character  is  often 
in  history,  there  was  always  in  it  the  opposite  spirit 
also,  the  spirit  of  Abraham's  conduct  to  the  King 
of  Sodom. 

And  it  is  deeds  like  this,  done  in  war  or  in  civic 
life,  which,  handed  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, have  made  the  greatness  and  glory  of  this 
country,  and  still  minister  to  its  true  life  and  its 
true  uses  in  mankind.     Grasping  and  selfish  as  our 

68 


ABRAHAM   THE    WARRIOR 

character  has  often  been  in  history,  there  has  always 
been  in  us,  and  there  is  still,  the  opposite  spirit— the 
spirit  of  magnanimous  honour,  of  unselfish  sacrifice, 
of  ready  help,  given  without  reward,  to  the  enslaved, 
the  oppressed,  and  the  captives  of  wrong.  It  is  that 
spirit,  and  not  the  other,  which  will  alone  make  us 
worthy  of  our  history,  and  justly  great  in  war  and 
peace.  Sometimes,  the  degraded  spirit  of  mere 
self-interest  seems  to  get  the  upper  hand.  But  I 
will  not  believe  that  it  will  ever  finally  prevail  in 
this  ancient  and  noble  land.  The  greater  spirit 
still  endures;  and  we  have  our  duty  to  it.  Our 
whole  life  should  be  a  representation  of  the  one 
and  a  battle  against  the  other.  We  will  swear 
before  Almighty  God  not  to  grasp  and  keep,  but  to 
give.  We  will  remember  what  the  scoff  which  the 
priests  and  the  rulers  threw  at  Jesus  Christ  really 
means  — "He  saved  others.  Himself  He  cannot 
save." 


69 


IV 

ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND  CONSOLATION 

Genesis  xv 

TT  is  part  of  a  great  story-teller's  art  to  vary  his 
■^  tale,  as  he  moves  on,  in  accordance  with  that 
ordinary  habit  of  human  nature  which  lifts  and  lowers 
alternately  the  moods,  even  the  circumstances  of  life. 
The  phrase,  "Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and 
every  mountain  and  hill  brought  low,"  might  be  said 
of  the  common  course  of  human  affairs.  And  so  it 
is  in  this  tale  with  Abraham.  After  his  brilliant 
feat  of  arms,  after  the  excitement  of  its  accomplish- 
ment, it  is  quite  natural  to  find  the  hero  of  the 
saga  in  a  state  of  depression.  That  is  the  first 
thing  we  should  expect. 

The  next  thing  we  should  expect  in  any  ancient 
tale,  in  order  to  enable  and  cheer  the  hero,  especially 
if  the  tale  has  something  of  an  epic  quality,  is  the 
supernatural  interference  of  the  gods,  a  vision  or  a 
miracle.  And  Abraham  is  represented  as  rescued 
from  his  gloom  by  a  vision  of  God  in  the  night. 

71 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Such  an  interference  is,  in  the  march  of  a  great  saga, 
followed  by  the  faith  of  the  hero,  and  by  the  inward 
strength  and  quiet  of  the  soul.  So  it  goes  in  the 
great  myths  of  Greece  and  India  and  Scandinavia; 
so  it  is  in  this  noble  Jewish  story.  Abraham  passes 
on  consoled ;  and  though  the  promise  is  not  fulfilled 
for  many  years,  his  heart  and  his  life  are  at  rest. 

First,  then,  the  gloom  of  Abraham.  I  have  said 
that  the  writer  of  the  completed  story  gave  it,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  a  special  direction.  He 
had  it  in  his  mind  to  answer  the  question :  Whence 
and  how  and  for  what  end  did  the  people  of  the 
Jews  arise  .^  just  as  to  answer  the  same  question 
with  regard  to  the  Roman  people  was  the  aim  of 
Virgil's  epic.  Up  to  this  point  in  the  conduct  of 
the  tale  various  events  have  already  illuminated 
this  design  of  the  writer.  But  the  root  of  them 
all  is  the  promise  to  Abraham  that  he  shall  be  the 
father  of  a  mighty  people,  who  shall  possess  the 
land  in  which  he  now  wanders  as  a  pilgrim. 

And  now  the  same  design  appears  before  us  in 
another  form.  Years  have  passed  by  since  the 
promise,  and  Abraham  is  still  childless.  Where  is 
the  promise  }  And  the  trouble  of  this  doubt  is  made 
to  arise  in  a  reaction  from  excitement.  Abraham 
has  thought  nothing  of  his  childlessness  during  the 
passion  of  his  pursuit  of  the  kings  and  of  his  victory; 

72 


ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND   CONSOLATION 

but  now,  when  in  the  dead  silence  and  peace  he  sits 
again  inactive  under  the  oaks  of  Mamre,  the  doubts 
he  had  forgotten  in  excitement  recur  in  the  reaction 
from  excitement.  "I  have,"  he  thinks,  "no  child; 
no  one  to  succeed  me,  but  the  steward  of  my  house, 
none  but  Eliezer  of  Damascus  !  "  The  child  of  his 
own  loins  is  the  pivot  of  his  life.  Its  absence  seems 
to  render  his  life  a  failure,  and  to  make  God  Him- 
self a  deceiver.  Thus  again  the  story  places  its 
main  subject  in  a  new  light. 

It  is  easy  to  compare  this  with  our  life.  The  ex- 
perience is  common  enough.  We  have  had  all  our 
energies  called  upon;  we  have  had  a  time  of  vivid 
employment  and  excitement ;  we  have  won  that  for 
which  we  went  forth  upon  the  war-path ;  and  now 
we  return  to  quiet,  uneventful  life  again  ;  home  after 
a  long  voyage,  back  to  the  country  after  a  London 
season,  back  to  commonplace  work  after  an  eager  epi- 
sode of  fame  or  what  seemed  like  fame,  back  to  monot- 
ony after  excitement.  And  a  dark  mood  descends 
on  us;  dulness  of  being,  deep  depression.  This 
is  our  reaction.  And  it  generally  takes  the  line  of 
the  chief  aim,  or  the  chief  sorrow  of  our  life.  That 
thing  for  which  we  have  steadily  worked  ever  since 
we  were  young  seems  to  us  to  be  marked  out  for 
failure.  That  hope  of  success  in  business,  in 
literature,  in  art  which  shone  before  us  like  a  star 

73 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

and  beckoned  us  on,  is  darkened  in  the  sky.  "  We 
are  no  good,"  we  think;  "our  life  is  broken.  All 
the  ideas  we  had  are  baffled  by  misfortune. "  Or  we 
go  back  and  think  of  the  great  sorrows,  the  special 
troubles  which  are  the  steady  distress  of  being  — 
the  girl  whose  love  we  missed,  the  friend  we  lost, 
the  poverty  which  suddenly  overwhelmed  us,  the 
son  we,  like  Abraham,  have  not  got,  and  we  sink 
deeper  and  deeper  into  gloom.  It  is  a  common 
story. 

How  does  the  writer  settle  it .?  Of  course,  the 
epic  needs  supernatural,  outward  interference.  God 
comes  down  to  speak  to  His  servant ;  and  in  a  vision 
of  the  night,  he  hears  the  well-known  voice  :  "  Fear 
not,  Abram ;  I  am  thy  shield,  and  I  will  give  thee 
a  great  reward."  And  the  inmost  sorrow  of  the 
patriarch  bursts  forth  in  his  cry  that  he  is  childless. 
But  the  great  Being  who  speaks  is  kind :  "  Thy  son, 
thine  own  son,  shall  be  thine  heir.  Rise  and  come 
forth  with  me. "  And,  in  the  vision,  Abraham  arose, 
and  went  to  the  tent-door,  and  stood  with  God  on 
the  hillside,  and  saw  above  him  the  dark-blue  vault 
of  the  Eastern  sky,  thick  with  innumerable  stars. 
"Look  up,"  said  Jehovah,  "and  tell  the  stars,  if 
thou  be  able  to  number  them;  so  shall  thy  seed 
be."     And  Abraham  believed,  and  was  consoled. 

The  form  of  the  vision  was  supplied  by  the  com- 
74 


ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND   CONSOLATION 

mon  beliefs  which  belonged  to  the  time  of  the 
writer  of  the  story.  When  a  Jew  or  Arab  felt  a 
deep  impression  made  upon  him  in  his  trouble  or 
doubt,  whereby  he  felt  them  cleared  away  and  his 
future  plain,  he  said :  "  God  has  spoken  to  me ; " 
and  so  vivid  was  his  belief  in  this,  that  he  visioned 
the  form  of  God  in  dream,  and  woke  convinced  that 
he  had  seen  God.  This  is  the  genesis  of  these 
stories  in  the  Old  Testament;  nor  are  they  quite 
apart  from  Western  and  modern  life. 

Is  the  whole  thing  the  creation  of  the  imagina- 
tion.? The  apparently  sensible  images  are.  We 
hear  no  voice  with  the  outward  ear ;  we  see  no  form 
with  the  outward  sight.  Whatever  seems  of  the 
senses  in  these  things  is  our  own  creation.  But 
that  which  is  not  of  the  senses,  the  original  reason 
why  we  feel  thus,  the  impression  made  on  the  spirit 
—  are  these  self-made  .'^  Do  they  come  only  from 
ourselves,  or  from  a  Spirit,  a  Will,  and  Life  with- 
out us,  who  cares  for  us,  and  is  working  for  us  and 
for  our  true  development.?  That  is  the  question; 
and  the  answer  that  I  give  is  that,  though  any  appar- 
ently sensible  appearance,  whether  in  dream  or  in 
waking  hours,  is  our  own  creation,  the  spiritual  im- 
pression which  has  caused  us  to  apparently  materi- 
alise the  vision  is  from  without  us,  a  direct  impulse 
or  suggestion  from  the  loving  Father  of  our  spirits, 

75 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

from  the  Guide  and  Guard  of  our  lives.  If  we 
believe  in  God  at  all,  if  we  believe  that  there  is  an 
active  Love  and  Righteousness  beyond  us  which 
has  an  original  energy,  and  which  loves  us  and 
desires  our  righteousness,  it  would  be  absurd  to 
deny  that  as  a  Spirit  He  speaks  to  our  spirit, 
awakens  our  thought  to  take  a  certain  direction, 
kindles  our  feeling  towards  certain  aspirations, 
impresses  on  us  a  consciousness  of  Himself,  His 
character,  and  of  how  we  are  to  live  in  order  to  be 
like  Him  in  character;  and  roots  and  tends  in  our 
hearts  the  faith  that  we  shall  be  at  one  with  Him 
in  an  everlasting  communion.  This,  if  He  be,  and 
if  He  love  His  creatures,  is  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  for  Him  to  do.  And  this,  I  believe. 
He  does,  of  His  own  good  will,  perform  in  us;  and 
faith  in  it  —  for  it  cannot  be  proved  by  any  process 
of  reasoning —  is  the  victorious  principle  of  life. 

That  then  which  the  story  represents  as  happening 
to  Abraham  holds  in  it,  we  believe,  a  universal  truth. 
The  temporary  and  local  elements  which  supernatu- 
ralise  it  here,  which  make  it  a  matter  of  the  senses,  or 
which  clothe  it  with  merely  national  or  with  early 
and  crude  conceptions  of  God,  are  to  be  put  aside. 
But  the  main  truth  that  the  great  Spirit  acts  directly 
on  the  souls  of  those  who  have  come  from  Him  — 
that  remains  as  true  for  us  as  it  was  true  to  the 

76 


ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND   CONSOLATION 

writer  of  the  story,  as  he  believed  it  to  be  true  for 
Abraham. 

At  one  point,  even  the  local  colour  is  true  to  uni- 
versal  human  nature.      It  is  at  night,  when  the  noise   \ 
of  the  day  is  hushed  and  the  inward  ear  is  attent ;  or  ■,  f 
in  solitude,  when  the  world  and  its  work  are  far  away ;  \  \ 
or  in  some  place  where  the  vastness  and  awe  of  the  ;  | 
natural  infinities  of  Nature  spread  unlimited  before  ;  | 
us,  in  the  presence  of  the  great  ocean  or  the  starry  I  / 
sky,  that  these   profound    impressions   are   chiefly  jl 
made.     Then  we  hear  in  our  heart  the  Voice  which  ( 
is   always   speaking   to   us,    and   we   answer,    like  \ 
Samuel,    "Speak,   Lord,   Thy  servant  heareth." 

This  is  no  mere  fancy.  It  has  been  the  confessed 
experience  of  millions  of  men  and  women  since  the 
beginning  of  time.  The  records  of  it  are  multi- 
tudinous, and  those  who  deny  that  any  reality  lies 
behind  them  have  to  explain  them.  The  experience 
is  there.  It  is  no  answer  to  say  that  so  very  com- 
mon a  thing  is  merely  subjective.  There  are  many 
persons  in  every  congregation  and  outside  of  all 
congregations,  whose  souls  have  not  had  one  single 
starting  point  out  of  which  they  might  build  up 
consolation,  that  is,  subjectively  upbuild  it  —  who 
yet  can  say:  "This  which  befell  Abraham  in  the 
story  has  befallen  me.  I  have  been  in  deep  depres- 
sion.    I  have  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  pit,  and  I 

77 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

have  been  lifted  out  of  it;  I  know  not  how  it  was, 
but  I  found  life  possible  again.  A  friend  came  to 
me  from  without  myself,  and  stood  beside  me ;  I  have 
heard  a  voice  in  my  soul,  '  Fear  not,  I  am  thy  shield; 
thou  shalt  have  the  promise. '  And  I  have  believed, 
and  gone  on  my  way,  even  though  the  dark  circum- 
stances were  unchanged,  in  the  gladness  of  peace. " 
Yes ;  it  is  our  Father  whose  direct  impression  on  our 
souls  has  made  the  turning  point  of  our  deep  depres- 
sion. The  love  which  never  reached  its  earthly  close ; 
the  cherished  hope  of  a  special  work  which  was  to  be 
ours ;  the  idea  which  God  seemed  to  promise  to  our 
youth  that  we  should  fulfil,  and  none  of  which,  like 
Abraham's  heir,  were  born,  we  are  somehow  or 
other,  slowly  or  suddenly  induced  to  believe  shall  be 
ours  in  the  future;  if  not  here,  then  in  the  world  to 
come.  The  time  when  they  will  be  fulfilled,  and  the 
manner  of  the  fulfilment  are  in  our  Father's  hand, 
but  we  are  sure  that  He  will  redeem  His  promise. 
Our  love  is  not  lost,  for  we  have  learned  to  love ; 
and  to  be  able  to  love,  or  to  rejoice  to  love  without 
asking  for  love  in  return,  is  the  highest  blessedness 
of  eternal  life.  The  special  work  also  will  be 
given  to  our  hand  when  we  are  fit  for  it.  Mean- 
time, every  hour  we  live  in  that  faith  is  a  preparation 
for  the  time  when  our  trained  energies  will  be  let 
loose  for  it  with  all  the  joy  with  which  a  full-sailed 

78 


ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND   CONSOLATION 

ship  at   last   leaves  the  harbour  with  a  favouring    | 
wind.     The  idea  too  we  had,  and  could  not  shape,     ( 
we  shall  shape  at  last,  and  for  the  humanity  beyond  ,| 
the  walls  of  earth,  if  not  for  the  humanity  on  earth,    1 
and    its  seed  shall  be  as  the  stars  of  heaven  for 
multitude. 

This  is  our  faith,  the  creation  of  our   Father's 
voice  within  our  heart,  and  when  we  have  gained  it, 
we  emerge  as  if  we  had  been  bathed  in  youth,  out  of 
the  dark  waters  of  depression.     We  pass  on  through 
life,  waiting  and  working  in  peaceful  hope  and  joy, 
seeing  the  invisible  good  above  the  evil  of  the  world, 
abiding  in  the  future  while  we  act  in  the  present, 
living  in  the  idea  and  for  it;  hoping  everything, 
believing  everything,  rejoicing  in  everything,  and 
fearing  nothing,   least  of  all  our  God,  for  we  love 
Him.     This  were  a  noble  life,  and  this  is  the  life 
which  in  the  story  Abraham  lived  as  the  Friend  of 
God.      Manifold  sorrows  and  troubles  fall  upon  such 
a  man ;  the  world  is  naturally  against  him,  for  the 
principle  of  his  life  is  opposed  to  the  transient  being  ^ 
the  important;  he  may  have,   like  Jesus,  to  stand  | 
against  society  and  to  suffer  the  cross,  but  his  faith  ij 
makes  him  the  conqueror.      He  endures,  as  seeing  ' 
Him  who  is  invisible,  as  knowing  the  joy  that  is  set 
before  him.     And  even  should  all  his  friends  desert    \ 
him,  and  he  be  left  to  die  in  solitude,  he  can  say     ■ 

79 


THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

! /with  Jesus  and  it  is  enough  to  make  death  a  triumph : 
I  "I  am  not  alone;  the  Father  is  with  me." 
^  This  is  the  main  outline  of  the  story  and  its  lesson. 
A  strange  legend  follows  it,  drawn  from  another  set 
of  materials,  and  of  a  different  time  and  spirit.  It 
is  inserted  here,  from  the  middle  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter.  Abraham  asks  for  a  sign  to  confirm  the 
promise,  and  the  sign  was  arranged  as  it  was  cus- 
tomary in  very  early  times  to  arrange  matters  when 
a  treaty  was  made  on  oath.  It  was  the  habit  to 
sacrifice  beasts,  "to  strike  the  treaty,"  to  cut  them 
in  halves,  and  then  for  the  contracting  parties  to  pass 
between  the  pieces,  imprecating  on  themselves,  per- 
haps, the  fate  of  the  beasts,  if  they  broke  the  treaty. 
Abraham  prepares  such  a  sacrifice,  and  Jehovah, 
shaping  His  word  like  a  smoking  furnace  and  a 
burning  lamp,  passed  between  the  divided  beasts, 
and  took  His  oath  to  keep  the  promise.  Such  was 
the  vision  which  came  when  Abraham  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep,  and  the  impenetrable  darkness  in  which 
Jehovah  was  believed  to  dwell,  encompassed  him. 
This  was  a  common  conception  of  the  Jewish  deity, 
and  it  lasted  even  beyond  the  more  spiritual  days  of 
the  great  prophets.  Jehovah  took  oaths  to  confirm 
His  word;  He  needed  sacrifices  to  bring  Him  down 
to  man,  to  enable  Him  almost  to  speak  to  man. 
He  dwelt  in  a  great  and  terrible  darkness,  and  He 

80 


ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND   CONSOLATION 

dwelt  in  it  as  a  consuming  fire.  The  eighteenth 
Psalm  embodies  this  conception  in  magnificent 
poetry. 

There  is  no  need  to  say  that  this  is  not  our  con- 
ception of  God,  for  the  whole  teaching  of  Jesus 
contradicts  it.  "God  is  Light,  and  in  Him  is  no 
darkness  at  all,"  says  S.  John,  and  the  phrase  means 
the  reversal  of  the  old  Jewish  thought  of  Jehovah. 
He  is  the  absolute  Faithfulness,  and  needs  not  to 
take  an  oath  to  confirm  His  promise.  He  needs  no 
sacrifices,  not  even  that  of  His  Son,  to  induce  Him 
to  speak  to  us.  He  is  kind  to  us,  without  our  prayer 
for  His  kindness.  His  voice  is  not  that  of  the  thunder 
and  the  fire ;  but  of  the  gentle  wind  and  the  soft  dew 
of  words  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  Jesus.  The 
whole  of  the  ancient  conception  belongs  to  a  period 
when  the  terror  of  God  was  more  in  men's  hearts 
than  the  love  of  Him. 

A  very  different  idea  belongs  to  the  first  part  of  this 
chapter.  Some  have  thought  that  there  was  an  early 
patriarchal  conception  of  God  which  existed  before 
the  tribes  developed  out  of  it  either  idolatry  or  mono- 
latry,  which  was  homelike,  paternal,  and  simple,  and 
utterly  unlike  the  cruel  conception  of  God  as  the 
national  monarch  of  the  Hebrews  which  arose  when 
Israel  had  fought  its  way  into  existence  among  the 
other  nations.  This  simpler  religion,  in  which  God 
6  8i 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

was  the  great  Patriarch,  is  reflected,  it  is  thought,  in 
the  early  Abrahamic  legends.  The  theor}^  may  be 
true,  but  we  cannot  tell.  The  more  probable  view 
is  that  the  editor,  living  after  the  Exile,  and  when 
the  prophets  had  formed  their  more  spiritual  and 
fatherly  conception  of  God,  believed  that  this  con- 
ception was  Abraham's,  and  naturally  introduced  it 
into  the  story.  At  any  rate,  the  religious  conception 
of  God  in  the  first  part  of  this  chapter  is  one  of  a 
loving  Being,  who  takes  tender  care  of  His  servant, 
who  develops  His  character,  and  who  is  as  spiritual 
a  being  as  the  God  of  Isaiah.  Indeed,  we  meet  here 
with  three  elements  so  like  those  of  Christianity, 
that  I  dwell  upon  them  in  conclusion. 

(i)  "Fear  not,  Abraham,  I  am  thy  shield."  The 
casting  out  of  fear  is  one  of  the  first  elements  of  the 
religion  of  Jesus,  and  it  is  only  cast  out  by  love. 
When  we  love  the  Highest,  we  fear  nothing  below 
it ;  we  do  not  fear  the  Highest  itself.  We  have  awe 
of  Him  and  solemn  reverence,  but  no  fear.  On  all 
sides  we  are  freed  from  the  curse  of  fear.  There  is 
no  fear  of  man  or  of  nature,  for  we  are  in  the  loving 
hands  of  their  Master  and  Maker;  no  fear  of  God, 
for  He  is  our  Father.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  Jesus ; 
and  though  it  is  not  fully  given  in  this  ancient  utter- 
ance, it  is  there  in  its  noble  beginnings.  And  the 
world  owes  a  great  debt  to  those  among  the  Jews  who 

82 


ABRAHAM'S  GLOOM  AND   CONSOLATION 

here  and  elsewhere  opposed  the  common  view  of  a 
God  who  had  to  be  approached  with  terror,  and 
coaxed  to  lay  by  His  wrath  by  sacrifices  or  by  the 
coward's  prayer.  That  double  view  runs  throughout 
the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament  —  the  Priests 
maintaining  the  terror  of  God,  the  Prophets  the  love 
of  God.  The  double  view  lives  still.  There  are 
those  who  dare  to  make  Jesus  a  supporter  of  the 
terrifying  aspect  of  God.  There  is  no  lie  greater 
than  this,  nor  one  more  ruinous  to  religion.  Every 
thought  and  act  of  a  religion  based  on  the  fear  and 
not  the  tenderness  of  God  is  a  contradiction  of 
Jesus  and  a  curse  to  mankind. 

(2)  Abraham  is  to  have  a  great  reward.  But  it  is 
plain  that  the  reward  is  not  material.  He  lived  and 
died  a  pilgrim.  He  never  possessed  any  land  save 
a  burying-place.  God  Himself,  communion  with  the 
perfect  Love,  peace  within,  faith  in  his  soul,  mighty 
ideas  —  these  are  the  rewards  of  Abraham,  and  they 
are  the  only  rewards  for  which  we  ought  to  look,  or 
which  we  should  cherish;  the  only  rewards  which 
Jesus  offers  to  our  acceptance. 

(3)  Then  see  how  the  tenderness  of  God  deepens. 
"  I  brought  thee,"  God  says,  "out  of  Ur  of  the  Chal- 
dees,  I  led  thee  into  this  land ;  I  have  always  been 
with  thee.  I  am  here  with  thee  now  to  fulfil  the  pur- 
pose of  thy  life,  that  for  which  I  formed,  and  form 

83 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

thee  now. "  Personal  care,  personal  education,  per- 
sonal communion,  personal  love.  That  was  the  con- 
ception of  the  writer  of  the  story ;  that  was  his  notion 
of  the  relation  of  God  to  man.  It  was  the  deepest 
conviction  of  our  Lord  and  Master,  Jesus  Christ. 
It  may  be  ours,  if  we  have  Abraham's  faith;  and 
were  it  ours  completely,  this  life  we  lead,  in  spite  of 
all  its  pains,  nay  all  the  more  because  of  them,  were 
unbroken  triumph ;  ay,  more  than  that,  were  inward 
growth  in  righteousness.  For  there  is  one  pregnant 
phrase,  well  worth  a  life's  thinking,  in  which  the 
writer  of  this  tale  embodies  the  result  of  his  own 
spiritual  experience,  and  embodies  ours;  the  mean- 
ing of  which,  true  and  fresh  to-day,  is  of  immortal 
power :  — 

"Abraham  believed  God,  and  it  was  counted  to 
him  for  righteousness." 


¥ 


THE   STORY   OF   HAGAR 


THE   STORY   OF   HAGAR 

Genesis  xvi 

^  I  ^HE  legend  of  Hagar  grew  up  whence  we  can- 
^  not  tell ;  but  when  it  became  part  of  the  epic 
tale  of  Abraham,  it  was  either  modified  or  used  in 
order  to  explain  the  relationship  of  the  Arab  tribes 
to  the  Israelites,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  to  stamp 
them  with  inferiority  to  Israel.  They  were  children 
of  Abraham,  that  was  not  denied;  but  they  were 
descended  from  a  slave  girl,  and  she  was  an  Egyp- 
tian. Moreover,  though  they  were  free,  yet  their 
character  was  not  so  fine  as  that  of  the  Hebrews. 
They  could  not  grow  into  a  nation;  they  had  no 
stability,  they  were  always  fighting  with  one  another 
and  with  the  world.  The  blood  of  Abraham  kept 
them  in  liberty,  the  blood  of  the  slave  prevented 
them  from  civilisation.  Or  the  writer  of  the  tale 
saw  what  the  Arabs  were,  and  emphasised  in  a  poetic 
fashion  the  touches  in  the  tale  which  accounted  for, 
or  were  in  harmony  with,  their  character.   A  vigorous 

87 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

phrase  expresses  this  Hebrew  view,  embodied  in  this 
story.  Ishmael  is  called  a  wild  ass  of  a  man,  whose 
hand  is  against  every  man  and  every  man's  hand 
against  him  ;  and  we  understand  all  that  an  Israelite 
writer  meant  by  that,  when  we  read  this  description 
of  the  wild  ass  —  swiftest,  most  untamable  and 
freest  of  all  beasts  —  which  is  given  in  the  book  of 
Job: 

Who  has  let  the  wild  ass  go  free, 
And  who  has  loosened  his  bonds  ? 
God  hath  made  the  wilderness  his  home 
And  the  barren  steppes  his  dwelling ! 
He  scorns  the  riches  of  the  city. 
He  has  no  heed  of  the  driver's  cry : 
He  ranges  the  hills  as  his  pasture, 
And  searches  out  every  green  thing. 

There  is,  then,  no  accurate  history  in  the  legend. 
But  there  is  in  it  all  the  charm  and  all  the  teaching 
of  a  lovely  story  with  a  religious  spirit  in  it.  And 
it  is  delightful  to  pass  from  the  close  atmosphere  of 
our  overcrowded  life,  and  to  find  ourselves  in  this 
simple  and  early  world.  A  fresh  air  seems  to  blow 
in  our  faces,  and  a  charm  of  youth  to  move  in  our 
hearts.  We  marvel  at  the  silence  and  the  solitude. 
Only  a  few  figures  animate  the  landscape  as  we 
stand  near  the  pastoral  encampment,  and  look 
eagerly  at  the  larger  tent,  where  from  Abraham, 
Sarah,  and  Hagar  the  great  Jewish  and  Arab  races 

88 


THE  STORY  OF  HAGAR 

flowed.  We  watch  the  birth  of  nations.  The  ways 
of  life  are  uncomplicated;  the  government  is  patri- 
archal ;  the  characters  are  natural  and  noble.  Faith 
is  the  master  of  being.  A  deep  impression  or  a 
new  idea  is  the  voice  of  God.  Everything  new  — 
so  small  is  experience  —  is  miraculous.  Whether 
this  represent  historical  fact  or  not  does  not  trouble 
us  much.  Whether  it  represent  the  heart  of  man 
truly,  that  is  the  question  which  interests  us. 
Whether,  even  under  crude  conceptions  of  God's 
nature,  it  makes  us  feel  that  there  is  a  Father  who 
deals  with  the  lives  of  His  children,  that  is  the 
matter  which  concerns  us  deeply.  And  both  these 
interests  are  wholly  independent  of  the  historical 
truth  of  the  story. 

I.  Hagar  was  an  Egyptian  and  a  bondwoman,  and 
yet  the  story  makes  her  subject  to  the  intimate  care 
of  God.  In  an  age  when  the  slave  was  despised,  we 
hear  that  the  Lord  of  all  did  not  despise  her.  Some 
have  objected  to  the  Old  Testament  that  it  does  not 
protest  against  slavery ;  but  to  forbid  slavery  in  those 
early  times  would  have  been  too  much  for  the  un- 
educated conscience  of  the  East  to  bear.  What 
could  be  wisely  done  was  done.  A  tale  like  this 
was  enshrined  in  the  sacred  books.  Masters  and 
slaves  heard  it,  and  we  may  be  certain  it  had  its 
influence  on  both.     A  slave  was  represented  as  the 

89 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

mother  of  a  people;  a  slave  twice  heard  the  revela- 
tion of  God,  a  slave  was  His  personal  care. 

But  Hagar  is  also  made  an  Egyptian,  and  we  find 
her,  as  an  Egyptian,  the  care  of  God.  So  the  writer 
of  the  tale  believed  that,  though  the  Hebrews  were 
selected  to  give  a  religion  to  mankind  —  were  the 
chosen  people  —  this  choice  did  not  exclude  God's 
care  of  other  nations.  There  is  a  conceited  theory 
in  theology  that  election  of  some  means  exclusion  of 
others.  It  is  part  of  the  universality  of  this  book 
that  it  does  not  support  that  theory.  Election  does 
not  mean  exclusion.  Hagar,  Pharaoh,  Balaam,  Job, 
are  represented  as  directly  taught  by  the  God  of  the 
Jews.  The  stories  of  Naaman,  of  Nebuchadnezzar, 
of  Cyrus,  of  Jonah  and  Nineveh,  told  the  Israelites 
that  what  God  was  doing  among  them,  He  was  doing 
among  other  nations  also.  God  called  Abraham  to 
be  the  father  of  the  Jews.  But  he  called  an  Egyp- 
tian to  be  the  mother  of  the  Arab  people.  "  I  will 
make,"  He  said,  "of  Ishmael  a  great  nation." 

Men  spoil  the  whole  drift  of  the  Bible  by  saying 
that  it  teaches  that  God  had  only  to  do  with  the 
Jews.  On  the  contrary,  the  prophetic  teaching  is 
that  one  nation  was  chosen  in  order  to  represent 
the  truth,  that,  as  God  wrought  on  one  so  He  was 
working  on  all,  just  as  one  day  is  set  apart  as  holy 
to  represent  the  truth  that  all  days  are  holy.     The 

90 


THE  STORY  OF  HAGAR 

real  lesson  of  the  book  is  that  God  is  the  root  of 
all  nations ;  the  Founder  of  them  all ;  that  they  are 
His  building,  and  their  king  is  the  King  of  kings. 

Therefore  our  faith  is,  that  when  more  than  four- 
teen centuries  ago,  the  bands  of  English  rovers 
landed  on  the  shores  of  Thanet,  it  was  God  who 
came  with  them  to  found  the  great  English  nation ; 
therefore  when  more  than  eight  centuries  ago  Duke 
William  infused  new  blood  into  the  English  people, 
it  was  God,  the  Evolver  of  the  human  race,  who  sent 
him  to  our  shores.  We  are  as  much  His  children 
as  the  seed  of  Abraham. 

This  is  a  thought  which  should  rule  all  our  lives 
as  Englishmen.  We  are  not  only  sons  of  God  as 
persons ;  we  are  sons  of  God  as  citizens  of  a  great 
country.  He  is  the  Origin  of  our  people  and  their 
King.  It  was  the  Creator  of  Nations,  who,  in  the 
rude  warriors  of  the  old  continental  England,  saw 
hidden  the  noble  law  and  lovely  literature,  and  steady 
will,  and  unbroken  courage,  and  energy  after  the 
unknown,  and  faith  in  the  perfect,  which  have  caused 
the  vast  outspreading  of  our  race  to  establish  its  just 
influence  over  the  upper  and  the  under  world.  It  is 
a  noble  inspiration  to  believe  that  all  was  contained 
in  His  thought  who  chose  us  for  our  work.  More- 
over, when  we  believe  this,  a  divine  idea  knits  our 
history  together;  a  religion,  a  conscience,  an  aspira- 

91 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

tion  are  given  to  it.  A  glorious  aim  then  belongs 
to  us  as  persons  and  as  a  people  —  the  aim  of  com- 
prehending and  fulfilling  the  ideas  which  God  gave 
the  English  people  to  work  out  in  humanity.  As 
long  as  we  are  true  to  this  high  conception  we  shall 
never  decay.  As  long  as  we  prefer  the  ideas  of  God 
in  us  to  selfish  glory  and  to  selfish  wealth,  we  shall 
endure.  God  has  made  our  seed  as  the  stars  of 
heaven,  and  as  the  sand  of  the  seashore  for  multi- 
tude. But  when  we  forget  our  origin  in  God  and 
the  duties  it  involves,  all  our  host  will  perish  like 
the  autumn  leaves,  and  deserve  to  perish.  This, 
from  end  to  end  of  the  Bible,  is  its  steady  teaching, 
and  it  is  eternal  truth. 

2.  And  now  for  Hagar  herself.  Her  character 
is  drawn  quite  plainly  in  the  short  story,  and  it  is 
not  one  which  could  be  moulded  without  trouble  to 
the  master  hand  of  God.  Her  first  flight  is  caused 
by  her  own  haughty  temper.  She  had  no  kindness  of 
thought  for  the  long  sorrow  of  her  mistress,  but  we 
have  pity  when  we  think  of  those  long  years  of  mar- 
riage and  long  waiting  for  the  son  who  was  to  be 
the  source  of  a  great  people.  Two  passionate  hearts 
under  the  grey  tent  dwelt  ever  on  one  thought :  the 
mother's,  to  clasp  a  son  to  her  milky  breast,  dearest 
desire  of  all  to  an  Oriental  woman;  the  father's,  to 
found  a  mighty  race,  to  be  the  father  of  nations,  his 

92 


THE  STORY  OF  HAGAR 

personal  desire  merged  in  the  larger  thought  of  man- 
kind. Year  after  year  went  by  and  no  less  keen  was 
the  longing.  Deeper  grief  then  gathered  round  it ; 
and  though  Abraham  believed  still,  Sarah  despaired. 
At  last  she  could  wait  no  longer;  she  adopted 
the  Oriental  usage  and  gave  her  slave-girl  to  her 
husband. 

And  Hagar  conceived,  and  then  her  character 
emerged.  She  despised  Sarah.  It  was  natural 
enough,  but  it  was  cruel.  It  was  more  than  cruel, 
it  was  mean.  God  had  given  her  what  her  mistress 
had  not,  and  she  presumed  on  the  gift  to  injure 
another's  heart.  She  used  God's  kindness  as  a 
means  of  unkindness,  that  miserablething  which  we 
so  often  do !  Yet,  she  was  young,  she  felt  herself  a 
mother,  she  was  an  untrained  slave:  it  was  all 
natural  enough,  we  cannot  blame  her  too  much. 
Then  she  possessed  that  quick  intelligence  and  fiery 
temper,  formed  where  the  glowing  sun  of  Egypt 
nourishes  women  like  Cleopatra,  and  we  must  think 
of  this  when  we  judge  her  action.  Above  all,  the 
natural  sense  of  freedom,  the  steady  passion  of  it, 
which  we  find  afterwards  in  all  she  did,  were  kindled 
into  hope,  rose  almost  into  certainty  of  attainment, 
when  she  realised  her  motherhood.  Then  think  of 
Sarah,  of  her  heart,  her  thoughts,  her  position; 
bring  the  two  women  together,   and  we  may  well 

93 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

imagine  how  high;  how  fierce  the  clashing  was. 
And  the  quarrel  made  daily  evil  in  the  tent.  The 
mistress  used  her  authority  and  punished  her  ser- 
vant. Abraham  could  scarcely  take  the  girl's  part 
against  his  life  companion;  and  Hagar  fled  into  the 
wilderness,  unable  to  bear  her  life. 

One  would  say  that  sorrow  had  poured  out  God's 
anger  upon  her.  But  it  was  quite  otherwise.  Had 
she  continued  to  grow  further  and  further  into  that 
hateful  temper  of  pride  and  contempt,  had  she  got 
the  better  of  Sarah,  she  had  been  indeed  a  lost 
woman.  God  might  have  spoken  to  her  then,  and 
she  could  not  have  heard  His  voice.  We  cannot 
hear  eternal  love  when  we  are  cherishing  the  tran- 
sient hatreds  of  the  world.  But  now,  in  her  feeble- 
ness and  pain,  when  her  heart  was  softened  by 
solitude  and  sorrow,  He  who  never  forsakes  us,  met 
with  her.  Footsore,  weary,  and  despairing,  as  she 
stayed  her  steps  beside  the  desert  fountain,  she 
heard  in  her  soul  the  voice  of  God.  "  Hagar,  Sarai's 
maid,  whither  wilt  thou  go.-*  "  And  she  answered: 
"  I  flee  from  the  face  of  my  mistress,  Sarai. "  Then 
the  story  tells  of  the  trial  that  was  given  her ;  exactly 
that  which  was  needful  for  her  character,  for  her 
future  motherhood,  exactly  that  which  would  make 
her  a  noble  woman.  "  Return,  submit  thyself,"  ask 
forgiveness  of  her  whom  thou  hast  cruelly  despised; 

94 


THE  STORY  OF  HAGAR 

unlearn  unkindness  and  pride  in  a  life  which  will  at 
first  be  pain  and  grief  to  thy  free  and  fiery  spirit. 
This  was  a  severe  trial.  There  are  few  of  us  who 
would  have  gone  back  after  exile  and  passionate  words 
and  a  bitter  sense  of  wrong.  It  was  great-hearted  of 
her  to  face  the  trouble  again,  to  meet  the  triumph 
of  the  elder  woman,  to  live  subject  to  her  over  whomj 
she  had  made  her  boast.  But  who  does  not  see  thati 
it  was  the  redemption  of  her  character,  that  shef 
had  stepped  out  of  wild  girlhood  into  self-collected 
womanhood.^  It  was  her  entrance  into  the  straic 
gate;  she  had  found  the  way  of  life. 

And  God  did  not  leave  her  comfortless.  He  gave 
her  a  magnificent  thought  as  her  companion  —  the 
same  as  that  he  had  given  Abraham  —  on  which, 
when  life  was  hard,  she  could  repose,  from  which  she 
could  draw  courage  and  endurance.  She  should 
bear  a  son.  Her  motherhood  should  be  complete. 
Nor  should  he  be  lost  in  the  multitude.  Nay,  he 
should  be  the  father  of  a  multitude,  and  his  name 
should  enshrine  for  her  the  sympathy  of  God. 
Ishmael  —  "  God  hears  "  —  that  shall  be  his  name. 
So  motherhood,  and  the  great  people  whom  she  held 
in  her  womb,  and  the  thought  of  God's  tenderness 
went  with  her  all  the  way  back  across  the  desert, 
and  irradiated  her  face  when  again  she  met  the 
frown  of  Sarah.     What  were  the  harsh  words  to  her, 

95 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

when  her  soul  was  companying  with  these  exalted 
thoughts  !  And  then,  to  have  them,  to  cherish  them 
within,  to  believe  them,  and  to  live  for  them  — 
what  an  education  for  a  woman,  what  self-develop- 
ment, what  power,  what  a  life  above  the  world 
were  hidden  in  their  folds!  Hagar  was  being 
made. 

And  such  is  the  way  God  deals  with  some  of  us. 
We  misuse  our  gifts,  and  we  are  punished  by  reap- 
ing what  we  have  sown.  We  fly  from  our  punish- 
ment and  find  ourselves  in  the  wilderness,  weary  of 
life,  stript  of  our  pride,  hungry  and  thirsty  for  rest. 

S    Then,    in  that  hour,    God  meets   us,   and  we  hear 

%  His  voice  bidding  us  go  back  and  take  up  our  pun- 
ishment, and  work  submissively  through  the  duties 
of  life.  The  only  way  to  get  rid  of  chastisement, 
or  rather  of  its  bitterness,  and  to  turn  it  into 
education,  is  to  undergo  it.     It  is  God's  desire  for 

I  our  perfection  which  puts  our  shoulder  again 
beneath  the  cross.  And  if  we  return  and  submit 
ourselves,  and  take  up  the  life  we  have  fled  from, 
renouncing  pride  and  contempt  for  loving  kindness 
and  humility,  we  shall  gain  happiness  of  heart  when 

\  the  strife  is  over.  For  the  strait  gate  opens  at  last 
on  the  sunny  lands,  where  the  countenance  of  God 
is  bright  for  His  servants,  and  the  soul  is  restored 
in  his  still  pastures.     And  even  if  happiness  of  soul- 

96 


THE  STORY  OF  HA  GAR 

is  as  yet  far  off,  strength  of  soul  is  not.  Character 
is  gained,  beautiful,  or  noble,  or  serious,  and  in 
the  character  is  communion  with  God  our  Father. 
Great  ideas  will  be  ours.  Ishmael,  "God  hears 
me,"  will  be  the  voice  which  will  console  us  in 
our  trouble.  Children  of  our  life  will  be  given 
us.  Our  struggle  for  love's  sake  will  bear  fruit  in 
others.  Multitudes  of  acts  in  men  and  women  yet 
unborn  may  flow  from  us.  Not  one  grain  of  our 
submission,  of  our  faithfulness  to  duty,  of  our 
endurance  of  chastisement,  shall  be  lost,  either  in 
us  or  in  our  fellow-men.  Thus  God  makes  us,  day 
by  day,  for  this  world  and  for  the  next. 

3.  Fifteen  years  have  now  passed  away,  and  we 
hear  of  the  second  exile  of  Hagar.  Abraham  has 
had  his  son  Isaac,  and,  on  a  festal  day,  Ishmael, 
inheriting  his  mother's  early  spirit,  mocked  the 
heir  of  the  house,  the  darling  of  his  mother's  age. 
Sarah  had  not  improved,  and  her  pride  was  galled 
to  the  quick.  She  demanded  the  expulsion  of  the 
mother  and  the  boy,  and  it  was  grievous  to  Abra- 
ham; but  there  was  no  chance  of  reconcilement, 
and  the  story  saves  his  character  by  making  God 
promise  him  that  Hagar  and  Ishmael  should  live 
and  be  the  origin  of  a  great  people.  In  this  way 
the  story  motives  his  action,  when  in  the  morning 
the  Egyptian  and  her  boy  are  sent  away.  They 
7  97 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

passed  into  the  desert,  and  soon  the  merciless  heat 
of  the  noonday  sun  blazed  thirst  and  death  on  the 
sand  and  stony  hills,  dotted  with  arid  shrubs  and 
bitter  flowers.  Winding  through  this  desolation, 
the  weeping  figures  went  their  way.  Sorrow  makes 
weariness  and  pain;  the  water  was  spent  in  the 
bottle,  for  a  mother  cannot  resist  her  child's  cry. 
At  last  the  boy  could  go  no  farther  and  Hagar  lost 
all  hope.  Despairing  surrender  to  fate  when  effort 
has  reached  a  certain  point  —  that  is  in  the  Oriental 
character.  An  English  woman  would  have  strug- 
gled onward  till  she  died  to  save  the  lad.  But 
Hagar  laid  the  child  in  the  shadow  of  one  of  the 
shrubs,  and  set  her  down  over  against  him,  a  good 
way  off,  as  it  were  a  bowshot ;  for  she  said,  *'  Let 
me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child,"  and  she  lifted 
up  her  voice  and  wept. 

That  is  beautiful.  And  it  goes  on  with  equal 
beauty.  "And  God  heard  the  voice  of  the  lad; 
and  the  angel  of  God  called  to  Hagar  out  of  heaven 
and  said  to  her,  'What  aileth  thee,  Hagar.?  Fear 
not ;  for  God  hath  heard  the  voice  of  the  lad.  Arise, 
lift  up  the  lad,  and  hold  him  in  thine  arms,  for  I  will 
make  of  him  a  great  nation. '  And  God  opened  her 
eyes,  and  she  saw  a  well  of  water;  and  she  went 
and  filled  the  bottle  with  water  and  gave  the  lad  to 
drink.     And  God  was  with  him,  and  he  grew  and 

98 


THE  STORY  OF  HA  GAR 

dwelt  in  the  wilderness   and  became  an    archer." 
The  tale  is  told  with  Oriental  imagery.      Voices 
are  heard;   an  angel  speaks  from  heaven.     But   if 
we  do  not  impute  objective  reality  to  these  things, 
the  spiritual  humanity  of  the  story  is  none  the  less. 
It  came  home  to  Hagar's  heart  that  God  had  not  for- 
gotten her,  that  He  was  the  ever  near.     And  that  is 
a  revelation  which  has  come  to  thousands  of  men 
and  women  in  this  world  of   ours.      It   has  come 
home  to  us  who  worship  the  Father  who  holds  us, 
in  our  hours  of  trouble,  to  His  heart;  and  we  think, 
as  we  give  thanks,  of  the  wandering  woman  in  the , 
desert,  and  realise  our  brotherhood  with  her  —  that'l 
everlasting   fraternity  of   sorrow  and   of   joy  that! 
knits  us,   across  the  centuries,   to  all  mankind. 

This  was  the  second  crisis  and  lesson  of  Hagar's 
life.  And  he  who  told  the  story  knew  the  human 
heart,  and  the  wisdom  and  kindness  of  the  God 
whom  he  brought  into  contact  with  the  woman's 
life.  For,  indeed,  as  we  think  of  the  tale,  the  care 
of  God  for  Hagar  has  in  it  a  peculiar  delicacy,  is  full 
of  thoughtfulness  for  her  character.  The  writer 
who  made  the  tale  must  have  loved  God  well. 

It  seemed  cruel  that  she  should  have  been  driven 
from  her  home.  One  would  say,  at  first,  that  God  is 
shown  as  hard  upon  her.  But,  if  we  look  deeplier, 
it  is  not  so.     The  things  we  think  the  bitterest  are 

99 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

often  the  sweetest  at  their  core.  For  had  Hagar 
remained  in  Abraham's  tents,  her  life  would  have 
grown  into  greater  misery.  Sarah,  now  exultant, 
would  have  made  her  feel  her  slavery  in  a  thousand 
ways  her  passionate  heart  could  not  have  borne. 
She  might  have  worn  herself  out  with  indignation, 
or  sunk  into  apathy;  her  eager  heart  grown  gray 
within,  all  the  interests  of  life  decayed  into  a  withered 
common  place;  the  slave  might  have  become  a 
slave  in  heart.  So  God  removed  her  and  made  her 
the  free-woman  of  the  desert.  The  stain  of  slavery 
slipped  away  from  her  for  ever.  She  became  her 
own.  Her  soul  drank  the  fresh  air  of  a  new  life. 
Every  hour  her  interests  grew  and  multiplied. 
Her  whole  character  expanded,  and  she  thanked 
the  Lord  in  joy. 

No  longer  the  voice  said:  "Return,  submit;" 
for  Hagar  had  learnt  that  lesson.  Her  character, 
strengthened  by  the  submission,  was  fit  to  do  her 
work  in  liberty.  Moreover,  she  had  her  boy,  and 
his  fate  was  to  be  great.  Her  motherhood  had  the 
fine  duty  of  making  him  worthy  of  his  destiny. 
And,  moreover,  she  knew  within  that  this  was  the 
work  of  God,  and  she  loved  Him  for  it.  Wherever 
she  looked,  whatever  she  did,  she  saw  the  divine 
Master  of  life,  the  All-seeing,  whom  she  had  met 
in  her  first  exile  to  rebuke  her  and  to  command  the 


THE  STORY  OF  HA  GAR 

right;  the  Ever-near,  whom  she  had  met  in  her 
second  flight  to  comfort  and  to  strengthen  her;  and, 
seeing  Him,  life  became  divine,  being  filled  with 
the  consciousness  of  love.  So  the  Oriental  heart 
was  at  peace  at  last.  And  with  peace,  forgiveness 
and  loving  kindness  crept  in.  The  families  were 
reconciled.  Ishmael  and  Isaac  often  met,  and  at 
last  stood  together  round  their  father  Abraham's 
grave.  The  education  of  Hagar  was  complete. 
The  story  is  rounded  to  its  close  in  charity. 

Her  God  is  ours.  He  speaks  to  us  as  plainly  as 
He  spoke  to  Hagar.  We  have  felt  Him  in  the  first 
crisis  of  our  life  as  the  All-seeing,  and  have  obeyed 
His  call  to  take  up  the  duties  of  a  steady  life. 
Then  many  years  pass  by,  and  monotony  lays  its 
withering  finger  on  our  life.  We  need  another 
shock  —  the  shock  of  the  afternoon  of  life  —  if  we 
are  to  grow  into  something  higher.  And  it  comes, 
awakening  us  from  the  commonplace,  stirring  us  to 
our  centre.  Cruel  and  bitter  we  think  it,  as  we  are 
driven  into  the  desert,  leaving  behind  us  all  the 
ancient  loves  and  sorrows.  We  go  forth,  carrying 
with  us  our  last  hope,  our  last  aspiration,  the  child 
of  our  whole  life,  desiring,  at  least,  to  save  that 
from  the  tempest  of  sorrow.  And  the  misery 
grows  deeper,  the  thirst  for  our  lost  youth,  our  lost 
energy,  our  lost  brightness.     But  we  are  stirred  out 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

of  our  slavery  to  earth's  monotonous  quiet,  out  of 
our  dead  satisfaction  with  this  world — stirred  to 
the  very  depths.  At  last  it  seems  we  can  bear  no 
more.  The  heaven  is  brass  to  our  prayer;  the 
water  is  spent  in  the  bottle.  We  cast  away  our 
last  hope  and  turn  aside  lest  we  see  it  die. 

It  is  then,  if  we  have  eyes  to  see,  if  our  heart  has 
still  some  trust,  that  something  darts  into  our  life 
which  seems  to  open  out  a  new  being  before  us,  if 
we  have  the  courage  to  take  it  up.  God  makes 
Himself  known  as  the  Ever-near.  He  bids  us  take 
up  the  hope  we  have  cast  away,  and  embody  it  in  a 
new  life.  "Arise,"  He  cries  in  our  heart,  "I  am 
with  you.  Drink  of  this  living  water.  I  myself 
will  be  in  you  a  well  of  water,  springing  up  into 
everlasting  life.  You  are  free  from  the  slavery  of 
the  visible  and  the  world;  all  the  freedom  of 
heaven  is  before  you,  all  the  work  of  earth  to  be 
done,  no  longer  for  yourself,  but  for  me  and  for 
your  fellow  men.  You  shall  be  twice  the  man  you 
were;  and  I  shall  be  with  you,  even  to  the  end  of 
the  world."  And  then  we  arise,  and  know  that  He 
has  done  all  things  well.  Life  has  no  more  the 
ancient  freshness  of  so  long  ago ;  but  it  has  a  fresh- 
ness which  will  endure  beyond  the  grave.  It  is 
free  from  false  craving,  the  desires  of  the  world  are 
dead.     It  is  a  serious,  a  more  peaceful  life;  but  it 


THE  STORY  OF  HA  GAR 

has  its  own   happiness,  more  profound   and   more 
secure  than  the  wild  happiness  of  old.     Communion 
with  love  has  made  us  loving,   and  loving   makes 
our  work  eternal.     And  then  comes  death,  and  in    i 
the  arms  of  that  gentle  friend  we  say:  "God  has   ' 
been  ever  near  to  me.     He  will  be  nearer  now." 


103 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 


THE   CHARACTER    OF   JUDAH 

'^Judah,  thou  art  he  zvhom  thy  brethren  shall  praise  ;  thy 
hand  shall  be  on  the  neck  of  thine  enemies;  thy  father' s  chil- 
dren shall  bow  down  before  thee.''' 

Genesis  xlix.  8. 

'T^HE  name  of  Joseph,  first  among  the  sons  of 
-*-  Jacob,  at  the  beginning  of  their  nation,  grows 
pale  as  history  advances,  before  the  name  of  Judah. 
Even  the  great  word  Israel  dies  before  it.  It  is  the 
Jews,  the  men  of  Judah,  that  fill  the  records  of  the 
world.  The  song  of  Jacob  and  the  blessing  of  his 
sons,  at  whatever  date  inserted  in  the  book  of 
Genesis,  contain  that  which  was  then  thought  of 
the  pre-eminence  of  Judah  —  "Thou  art  he  whom 
thy  brethren  shall  praise.  He  couched,  he  lay  down 
as  a  lion,  as  a  young  lion;  who  shall  stir  him  up.? " 
Only  the  king  of  beasts  could  be  his  fitting  symbol. 
It  was  not  long  before  the  tribe  rose  into  leader- 
ship ;  for  though  we  cannot  allot  historical  accuracy 
to  the  history  in  the  Pentateuch,  yet  enough  is  plain 

107 


THE    OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

to  allow  US  to  give  a  high  eminence  to  the  tribe  of 
Judah.  Of  all  who  left  Egypt,  we  are  told  it  was 
the  most  numerous.  To  it  in  the  wilderness,  when 
the  twelve  tribes  were  divided  into  four  camps,  was 
given  the  eastern  position  towards  the  rising  sun, 
and  it  led  the  march.  The  first  romantic  story  of 
the  land  of  Canaan  belongs  to  its  history.  Caleb, 
the  friend  of  Joshua,  the  only  one  with  Joshua 
who,  the  story  says,  survived  the  wilderness,  was 
the  first  who  made  the  great  tribe  famous ;  and  he 
chose  Hebron  and  its  valley  for  his  conquest.  The 
choice  itself  was  full  of  meaning;  for  in  Hebron 
lay  the  only  spot  which  in  the  whole  land  the  Jews 
could  claim  as  theirs  from  the  beginning,  the  little 
field  of  Machpelah  that  Abraham  bought,  where  he 
and  Isaac  and  Jacob  lay  at  rest.  The  most  sacred 
place  in  the  heart  of  Israel  was  claimed  and  won 
by  hard  fighting  by  the  tribe  of  Judah,  and  Caleb's 
name  was  given  to  the  land.  A  story  like  one  in 
a  mediaeval  romance  links  itself  to  this  conquest. 
Kirjathsepher,  a  sacred  town,  the  town  of  the  ora- 
cle, lay  south  of  Hebron.  Caleb  resolved  to  have 
it,  and  he  offered  his  daughter  Achsah  as  the  prize 
of  the  man  who  should  take  it.  And  Othniel  his 
nephew  arose,  and  went  forth  and  took  the  fortress. 
Then  Achsah  came  to  Othniel  led  by  her  father. 
But  the  women  of  Judah  were  as  romantic  as  the 

108 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

men.  Close  to  the  place  where  her  lover  had  won 
her  with  a  strong  hand,  lay  a  valley,  rich  in  grass, 
watered  by  a  bubbling  stream  that  rose  at  the 
height  of  the  glen  and  fell  down  to  its  lowest  end. 
Achsah,  worthy  of  her  tribe,  set  her  heart  on  this. 
She  would  not  enter  her  husband's  house,  nor  light 
off  her  ass,  till  she  won  the  blessing  of  the  green 
vale  with  its  upper  and  its  lower  streams  :  and  father 
and  husband  took  it  for  her.  Men  and  women  alike 
in  this  tribe  were  warrior-hearted.  It  seems  they 
even  gained  the  great  hill  city  of  Jerusalem  for  a 
time,  though  its  full  conquest  was  reserved  for  him 
to  whom  best  belonged  the  name  of  the  lion  of  the 
tribe  of  Judah.  Round  about  Hebron  they  settled 
down,  in  a  rich  land  of  pasture  and  vine.  The  grass 
was  deep  for  flocks,  and  on  its  terraces,  where  the 
ancient  vine-presses  are  still  seen  in  the  rock,  grew 
more  plentifully  than  elsewhere  the  Syrian  golden 
grape;  and  the  words  of  Jacob's  song  were  true: 
"Judah  bound  his  foal  unto  the  vine,  and  his  ass's 
colt  to  the  choice  vine;  he  washed  his  garments  in 
wine  and  his  clothes  in  the  blood  of  grapes ;  his  eyes 
were  red  with  wine  and  his  teeth  white  with  milk." 
In  the  midst  of  this  land  arose  afterwards  the 
greatest  genius  and  king  that  Israel  had  seen,  David 
of  Bethlehem,  the  lion  of  the  tribe.  Poet,  musician, 
freebooter,  warrior,  ruler,  he  wrought  the  tribes  into 

109 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

one  nation.  He  took  Jerusalem  and  gave  the  king- 
dom a  capital  city  within  the  bounds  of  his  own 
tribe.  He  centred  there  religion  and  law.  Beneath 
his  sway  captive  nations  bent,  and  Jehovah  became 
the  Lord  of  Hosts ;  and  on  the  day  when  in  proud 
procession  up  the  heights  of  Zion  the  hymn  was 
sung,  "Lift  up  your  heads,  oh,  ye  gates,  that  the 
King  of  Glory  may  come  in,"  the  words,  "  Judah, 
thou  art  he  whom  thy  brethren  shall  praise,"  re- 
ceived their  highest  historical  meaning.  Then  came 
the  division  of  the  kingdom  after  Solomon's  death; 
and,  in  a  few  generations,  the  fall  of  Samaria  before 
Assyria  left  Judah  alone.  Into  it  gathered  the 
whole  of  the  national  spirit,  and  the  little  people 
stood  firm  against  their  mighty  neighbours.  The 
day  of  misfortune  came,  and  Judah  fell  before 
Babylon,  but  not  for  long.  The  persistent  force  of 
the  nation,  that  persistency  which  was  Jacob's,  and 
which  above  all  else  marks  the  Jew,  made  its  way 
to  restoration,  and  when  the  captives  returned  to 
Jerusalem,  all  the  people  of  their  race  became  Jews, 
men  of  Judah;  and  Jerusalem,  to  all  the  scattered 
Jews,  the  sacred  centre  of  the  earth.  At  last,  of 
David's  line,  arose  a  greater  still.  The  Master  of 
spiritual  thought  came  of  the  stock  of  Judah  and 
as  His  kinghood  was  symbolised  in  the  giving  to 
Him  of  the  ancient  name  —  the  Lion  of  the  tribe 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

of  Judah,  so  was  the  meekness  and  love  which  made 
His  kingship  sure,  as  well  as  the  source  whence 
He  derived  it  symbolised  in  His  other  name  —  the 
Lamb  of  God.  David  and  Jesus  —  surely  Judah 
had  great  men. 

Therefore,  looking  back  on  this  lightly  touched 
sketch,  we  get  interested  in  him  who  was  the 
founder  of  the  tribe.  Was  he  worthy  of  his  de- 
scendants, worthy  of  the  fortunes  of  his  race.-* 
What  sort  of  man  does  the  book  of  Genesis  repre- 
sent him  to  be.-*  Is  there  aught  in  the  few  touches 
we  have  of  him  that  can  account  for  the  pre- 
eminence of  his  tribe.'*  Can  we  bring  him  before 
us  with  any  vividness,  can  we  realise  the  man  .^ 
We  can  realise  him,  as  he  is  given  in  the  story. 
How  far  his  character  is  historical,  we  do  not  know; 
but  it  is  at  least  before  us  as  in  an  epic  poem.  He 
is  conceived  of  as  a  whole  by  the  writer,  and  we 
can  draw  our  lessons  without  enquiring  too  closely 
into  the  accuracy. 

The  first  scene  in  which  we  meet  him  is  marked 
with  the  fierce  passions  of  an  early  time.  The 
brothers  have  met  for  the  mid-day  meal  at  Dothan. 
They  lift  their  eyes,  and  see  Joseph  drawing  nigh 
across  the  fields,  and  hate  and  scorn,  envy  and  jeal- 
ousy ring  in  the  sentence :  '*  Behold,  this  dreamer 
Cometh  !     Come,  now,  let  us  slay  him  and  cast  him 

III 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

into  a  pit,  and  we  shall  see  what  will  become  of 

his  dreams."     Thus  the  sin  of  hatred  cherished  in 

thought  breaks  out,  on  opportunity  given,  into  the 

sudden  act  of  murder,  and  we  learn  that  though  sins 

of  thought  are  not  so  bad  as  sins  of  act,  for  they 

can   still   be  repented   of;  yet,   to  nurse  a  sin   in 

thought    is   to   make    it    easy   to    commit    in    act. 

i        Cherish  hate,  and  we  know  not  when  we  may  be 

i\       swept  into  murder.      Cherish  any  guilt  in  thought, 

".     and  one  touch  sets  the  repressed  waters  into  a  head- 

\    long  torrent  of  act.      Care  then  for  your  thoughts, 

and  the  acts  will  take  care  of  themselves.     That  is 

the  lesson. 

So  these  men  with  their  murdered  brother  sat 
down  around  the  pit's  mouth  to  eat  and  drink.  Con- 
science did  not  make  them  cowards  nor  their  daily 
meal  impossible,  for  hate  is  almost  as  strong  as  love 
in  making  sin  appear  not  sin.  And  now  Judah 
begins  to  play  his  part.  He  had  hated  like  the 
rest,  but  he  kept  his  head.  Passion  touched  him 
for  a  short  period,  but  prudence  had  its  way  after 
passion.  When  the  company  of  Ishmaelites  passed 
by,  he  seized  his  opportunity.  He  foresaw  the 
wild  torment  of  conscience,  did  he  and  they  slay 
their  brother.  "  His  blood  would  cry  out  of  the 
ground  in  which  they  should  conceal  it."  They 
would  be  accursed  and  feel  accursed,  and  lose  the 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

use  and  good  of  life.  Therefore,  coolly,  quietly, 
he  provided  against  the  dreadful  work  of  con- 
science in  the  future.  "  Our  end  will  be  reached 
as  easily  without  shedding  our  brother's  blood. 
Sell  him  to  this  caravan ;  we  shall  be  rid  of  him 
and  his  dreams,  and  be  quiet-hearted.  What  profit 
is  it  if  we  slay  our  brother  and  conceal  his  blood  t  " 
And  his  brethren  were  content. 

It  is  a  curious  dramatic  opposition  of  human 
character.  The  fierce  unthinking  brothers  are  seen 
set  over  against  the  man  of  wisdom,  and  we  mark 
the  power  which  Judah  has  already  over  them.  Thus, 
at  the  very  first  time  we  touch  Judah,  his  supremacy 
is  clear.  It  is  still  more  curious  to  contrast  him 
with  Reuben.  Reuben's  plan  would  not  have  worked 
well.  Had  Joseph  been  saved  and  brought  back  to 
his  father,  he  would  have  been  worse  off  than  before. 
Hatred  would  have  found  its  way.  For  their  own 
sakes  his  brethren  would  then  have  got  rid  of  him 
if  possible.  If  not,  and  Joseph  had  told  his  tale, 
the  favouritism  of  Jacob  would  have  been  greater 
than  before,  and  the  hate  greater.  Jacob  might 
then  have  severed  himself  from  his  sons.  He  and 
Rachel's  sons  might  have  sent  the  rest  into  banish- 
ment. The  whole  family  might  have  been  broken 
up,  and  the  future  of  Israel  ruined.  It  may  be  that 
Judah  felt  this.  Anyway,  he  acted  as  if  he  did. 
8  "3 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

He  took  the  only  course  open  to  him.  He  saved 
his  brother's  life,  and  he  saved  the  unity  of  the 
family.  He  did  grievous  wrong,  but  he  had  the 
courage  of  his  wrong.  He  saw  clearly  the  present, 
saw  that  Joseph  could  not  return.  He  saw  clearly 
the  future,  and  he  chose  his  path  at  once.  A 
guilty,  but  a  strong  man. 

At  the  very  moment  of  act  while  the  deed  is  but 
half  done,  while  the  full  sin  is  not  committed,  we 
may  retreat ;  but  the  story  tells  us  that  we  cannot 
put  things  back  as  they  were  before.  The  worst 
may  not  be  done,  but  if  we  do  not  murder  Joseph, 
we  must  sell  him  for  a  slave.  Judah  retreated,  but 
he  could  not  retreat  altogether.  Nor  did  he  succeed 
in  saving  his  conscience,  as  we  often  try  to  do  in 
other  things,  by  only  going  half  way  to  sin.  "  His 
blood  shall  not  be  mine,"  said  Judah,  "I  will  not 
murder. "  And  as  long  as  hatred  lasted,  I  dare  say 
that  was  enough  to  keep  his  conscience  quiet.  But, 
as  hatred  died  in  Joseph's  absence,  conscience  came 
back,  and  Judah  knew  his  guilt,  and  so  did  his 
brothers.  How  hard  it  bore  upon  them  we  may  see 
by  their  fear  and  their  speech  when,  years  after- 
wards, misfortune  fell  upon  them  at  Pharaoh's  court. 
At  once  they  referred  their  trouble  to  the  vengeance 
of  God.  "We  are  verily  guilty  concerning  our 
brother,   in  that  we  saw  the  anguish   of  his  soul 

114 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

when  he  besought  us  and  we  would  not  hear;  there- 
fore is  this  distress  come  upon  us.  His  blood  is 
required  of  us."  What  does  that  not  tell,  after 
years,   of  all  that  remorse  had  done ! 

I  have  made  Judah  save  Joseph  for  prudential 
reasons,  and  this  covers  part  of  his  action.  But  not 
the  whole  of  it.  In  the  light  of  after  events  in 
which  he  showed  as  much  heart  as  prudence,  his 
present  deed  has  another  aspect.  One  or  two  quick 
words  confirm  the  view  that  he  saved  him  out  of 
kindness  as  well.  His  hatred  was  great,  but,  as  he 
waited,  other  thoughts  stole  in.  He  thought  of  the 
young  life,  he  remembered  his  father's  love  for  the 
youth,  he  remembered  he  was  a  brother.  We  find 
behind  the  prudence  which  said,  "What  profit,"  the 
humanity  which  closed  his  speech  with  the  words, 
" He  is  our  brother  and  our  flesh."  There  may  not 
have  been  much  humanity  in  him,  but  it  was  in  his 
nature,  and  it  grew,  as  we  shall  see. 

What  do  we  know  of  him  now  t  He  was  capable 
with  his  brothers  of  hatred,  that  is,  of  strong  pas- 
sion; he  was  capable  with  them  of  being  swept 
away  by  his  passion  into  violent  sin.  But  here  he 
divides  from  them,  and  ceases  to  be  the  common 
man.  Unlike  them,  he  sees  the  position  clearly,  and 
he  sees  the  future.  His  passion  is  subdued  to  fore- 
sight and  wisdom.      Unlike  them,   also,  he  is  not 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LITE 

carried  by  passion  beyond  humanity.  Gentleness, 
human  love,  associated  memories  that  soften  him 
steal  in,  and  he  feels  their  force.  The  lamb  is 
joined  to  the  lion,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  to 
them  both.  This  was  a  man  to  win  pre-eminence, 
to  make  his  mastery  felt.  And  it  is  curious  how 
we  find  something  of  the  same  type  of  character  in 
David,  his  descendant.  The  same  holding  fast  of 
wrath,  the  same  impetuosity  in  his  passions,  the 
same  foresight  in  knotty  circumstances,  the  same 
clearness  of  view,  the  same  humanity  —  the  lion,  the 
lamb,  and  the  serpent.  Character  is  transmitted; 
and  David  became  the  master  of  men  by  the  same 
forces  which  put  Judah  at  the  head  of  his  brethren. 
The  next  time  we  meet  Judah  he  is  among  the 
Canaanites,  and  the  subject  of  a  strange  tale.  He 
forms  a  close  friendship  with  an  Adullamite,  and  he 
marries  a  Canaanite.  You  see  he  is  made  in  the  story 
a  man  of  the  world.  He  loves  his  race,  but  he  does 
not  keep  apart  from  other  people.  He  knits  him- 
self, like  David,  into  a  close  friendship.  He  is 
capable  of  that  —  a  man  whose  heart  was  moved  by 
men  as  well  as  by  women.  We  see  Hirah  and  him 
living  together,  going  together  to  the  sheep-shear- 
ing, doing  business  for  one  another.  His  sym- 
pathies go  abroad,  he  learns  the  world  and  its  ways 
beyond  the  circle  of  his  family,  and  the  wisdom  of 

ii6 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

life  comes  to  him ;  so  that  we  do  not  wonder  at  his 
unembarrassed,  quick,  and  intelligent  action  before 
Joseph  in  the  Egyptian  court.     In  the  midst  of  this 
half  foreign  life  his  wife  died,  and  his  daughter-in- 
law,  because  she  had  no  son  —  and  Judah  forgets  to 
give  her  his  third  son  according  to  custom — way- 
laid her  father-in-law  and  obtained  a  child  by  him. 
Ugly  as  the  story  is,  it  is  not  so  strangely  apart 
from  the  moral  sense  of  the  time  as  it  is  from  ours. 
But  Judah  thinks,   being  deceived,   that  Tamar  is 
shamelessly  guilty.     And  the  hot  quickness  of  his 
nature  breaks  out  in  an  instant  —  "  Bring  her  forth," 
he  cries,  "and  let  her  be  burnt."     Then  he  learns 
the  truth;  instantly  his  anger  falls;  that  would  be 
natural  enough.     But  shame  might  prevent  a  man 
in  such  circumstances  from  doing  justice.      He  had 
been  guilty  in  many  ways,  and  all  the  world  knew 
his  guilt.     But  the  quiet  sense  of  the  man  asserted 
itself,   not  this  time  in  prudence,   but  in   justice. 
As  usual,  he  saw  things  clearly.     Daylight  is  not 
brighter  than  the  light  in  which  Judah  looked  at 
daily  life ;  and  whether  himself  or  others  were  wrong 
or  right,  and  where  they  were  wrong  or  right,  and 
how  to  get  things  into  the  clearest  light,  and  when 
there,  to  put  them  as  right  as  he  could,  even  when 
he  put  himself    wrong.      What    men  thought  was 
nothing  to  him  in  comparison  with  this.     He  seems 

117 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

always  to  have  had  the  courage  to  do  it  and  to  do  it 
at  once.  Nor  is  there  anything  in  character  which 
is  better  than  this  for  the  conduct  of  life,  nor  any- 
thing which  gives  a  man  more  just  power  over  his 
fellows.  So  the  moment  Judah  saw  he  was  wrong, 
he  acknowledged  it.  "  She  hath  been  more  righteous 
than  I,"  he  said  of  Tamar,  "because  I  gave  her  not 
to  Shelah  my  son."  As  in  the  case  of  Joseph's 
murder  the  sudden  outburst  of  hatred  was  felt,  yet 
subdued  to  the  claim  of  his  clear  foresight  of  results, 
so  here  the  sudden  outburst  of  wrath  was  felt,  but 
subdued  to  the  claim  of  clear  justice.  What  won- 
der then  that  a  man  whose  character  was  such  a  rare 
combination  of  strong  passion  and  keen  sense  of 
justice  should  establish  himself  as  a  ruler  over  men. 
Clear-headed  and  clear-hearted;  and  always  recog- 
nising the  natural  claims  of  humanity.  Indeed,  in 
both  cases,  his  action  is  based,  beyond  common  sense, 
on  common  humanity.  Joseph  was  his  brother; 
Tamar  was  a  woman,  and  she  had  a  right  to  a 
son. 

The  next  time  we  meet  Judah,  the  same  elements 
of  character  appear  in  very  different  circumstances. 
The  food  the  men  had  brought  from  Egypt  was 
exhausted,  and  their  father  bade  them  go  again. 
But  Joseph  had  refused  to  see  them  without  Ben- 
jamin, and  Jacob  would  not  part  with  the  last  of 


THE    CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

Rachel's  sons.  Reuben  had  pledged  his  two  children 
to  his  father  for  the  safety  of  Benjamin,  but  Jacob 
did  not  believe  in  Reuben.  He  was  weak  through 
long  grief  and  age,  and  petulant :  "  My  son  shall  not 
go  down  with  you;  if  mischief  befall  him  by  the 
way  in  which  ye  go,  then  shall  ye  bring  down  my 
grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  Why  did  ye 
tell  the  man  you  had  a  brother.?  "  Then  Judah,  the 
spokesman  for  the  rest,  stepped  forward  and  met 
Jacob's  useless  weakness  with  a  clear  statement  of 
the  case:  "Here  is  the  fact,  take  it,  or  leave  it." 
He  modified  nothing.  It  is  like  a  firm  physician 
speaking  to  an  hysterical  patient  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  plain  speaking  is  the  best  cure.  "  If  thou 
wilt  send  our  brother  with  us,  we  will  go  down  and 
buy  thee  food,  but  if  thou  wilt  not  send  him,  we 
will  not  go,  for  the  man  solemnly  protested  to  us,  ye 
shall  not  see  my  face  except  your  brother  be  with 
you."  And  when  Jacob  still  hung  back,  he  went 
on:  "Send  the  lad  with  me  and  we  will  arise  and 
go,  that  we  may  live  and  not  die,  we  and  thou  and 
our  little  ones.  Do  you  not  see  that  all  our  lives 
are  in  question } "  Then,  with  a  touch  of  that  impa- 
tience with  vain  objections  and  delay  which  those 
men  have  who  see  vividly  the  right  thing  to  do, 
he  adds :  "  Except  we  had  lingered,  surely  we  had 
returned  this  second  time."     The  same  clear  head, 

119 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

you  see,  the  same  plain  rendering  of  justice  to  cir- 
cumstances. Things  being  so,  we  must  act  in  this 
way. 

Now,  such  a  character  is  often  hard,  and  Judah 
had  often  been  hard.  Still,  as  before,  the  human- 
ity in  his  character  comes  out.  He  feels  with  sor- 
row; and  though  he  speaks  sternly,  he  pities  the 
old  man's  grief.  Conscience  of  his  sin  to  Joseph, 
as  well  as  his  own  nature,  had  made  him  tender: 
"  I  will  be  surety  for  Benjamin,  and  of  my  hand 
shalt  thou  require  him ;  if  I  bring  him  not  unto 
thee,  let  me  bear  the  blame  for  ever."  It  was  no 
vain  boast :  as  we  shall  see,  he  meant  it  thoroughly. 
And  the  old  man  felt  his  son's  love  and  knew  that 
he  might  trust  him.  Judah's  strong  character  had 
made  its  way,  and  Jacob  yields  at  once,  as  Judah's 
brethren  did  before,  to  the  mastery  and  truth  of  his 
son:  "Take  your  brother  and  go."  Here,  then,  is  a 
new  element  in  Judah's  character.  Not  only  clear, 
intellectual  perception  of  facts,  and  just  action  on 
them,  but  settled  tenderness  of  heart.  It  was 
needed  to  make  him  truly  great  as  a  leader  of  men. 
Justice  without  tenderness  is  always  becoming  un- 
just, for  it  cannot  make  allowance  for  weakness. 
It  treats  weakness  as  a  crime,  when  it  should  treat 
it  as  a  disease.  It  is  incapable  of  mercy,  and  the 
merciless  may  rule  the  bodies  but  not  the  souls  of 

1 20 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

men.     Earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's 
when  mercy  seasons  justice. 

The  next,  and  almost  the  last  scene  in  which  we 
meet  him,  is  equally  characteristic.  Joseph's  cup  is 
put  in  Benjamin's  sack.  The  sons  of  Israel  are  pur- 
sued and  accused  of  the  theft.  I  am  sure  it  was 
Judah  who  answered  the  steward,  though  it  is  not 
told  us.  The  speech  has  all  his  clearness  of  state- 
ment, all  his  sense  of  the  necessary  justice  of  things  : 
"  We  have  brought  back  the  money  we  found,  and 
more  money.  Honesty  like  that  is  not  likely  to  steal 
silver  or  gold,  but  if  the  cup  is  found,  let  him  who 
stole  it  die,  and  we  become  your  lord's  bondmen." 
The  cup  is  found  in  Benjamin's  sack,  and  Judah  and 
his  brethren  return  to  Joseph's  house.  No  man 
could  be  in  a  more  difficult  position  now  than  Judah. 
The  very  child  he  had  sworn  to  bring  back  is  the 
guilty  one,  and  Judah  cannot  deny  Benjamin's  guilt. 
And  it  was  guilt  against  the  greatest  man  in  Egypt, 
in  whose  hand  were  not  only  their  lives,  but  the  lives 
of  all  they  had  left  behind.  Judah  closed  at  once 
with  the  difficulty,  and  nothing  can  be  more  masterly, 
more  quiet,  more  politic,  than  the  way  in  which  he 
did  it.  He  confesses  the  guilt  at  once  with  his  usual 
justice,  and  to  shield  Benjamin  he  binds  himself 
and  all  his  brethren  together  as  responsible  for  the 
crime:   "What  shall  we  say  unto  my  lord,    what 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

shall  we  speak,  or  how  shall  we  clear  ourselves  f  God 
has  found  out  the  iniquity  of  thy  servants;  behold, 
we  are  my  lord's  servants,  both  we  and  he  also  with 
whom  the  cup  is  found."  "God  forbid,"  replied 
Joseph,  "only  he  shall  be  my  servant  with  whom  is 
found  my  cup."  Then  Judah,  driven  into  the  last 
corner,  makes  that  beautiful  and  touching  speech 
which  we  all  know,  almost  the  most  beautiful  thing 
in  this  book  of  Genesis.  Having  allowed  the  guilt, 
he  attempts  no  defence  of  it,  but  in  his  quiet  and 
dignified  way  first  states  all  the  facts  one  by  one 
with  absolute  and  limpid  clearness,  filling  them 
throughout  —  I  know  not  how,  but  we  feel  it  as  we 
read — with  a  pervading  tenderness,  so  that  we  hear 
the  softness  in  his  voice;  and  then  pleads  in  exten- 
uation the  claims  of  humanity.  He  appeals  to  the 
natural  tenderness  in  Joseph,  to  the  natural  piety 
of  the  heart  towards  an  old  man's  life  of  sorrow, 
towards  fatherhood  longing  to  see  the  only  son  left 
of  a  loved  and  lost  and  unforgotten  wife.  "  He  is  a 
lad,  and  his  father's  life  is  bound  up  with  his  life.'' 
Then,  having  restrained  himself  up  to  this  point 
that  he  might  state  all  things  with  lucid  force,  his 
tenderness  and  love  break  forth.  The  last  touch 
comes  :  "  I  am  surety  for  the  boy.  Take  me  instead 
of  him.  I  pray  thee  let  thy  servant  abide  instead 
of  the  lad,  a  bondman  to  my  lord ;  and  let  the  lad 


THE   CHARACTER    OF  JUDAH 

go  up  with  his  brethren.  For  how  shall  I  go  up  to 
my  father  and  the  lad  be  not  with  me,  lest  perad- 
venture  I  see  the  evil  that  shall  come  upon  my 
father?  "  Who  does  not  feel  the  burst  of  passion- 
ate tenderness  in  that  ?  The  whole  deeper  nature 
of  the  man  breaks  out  in  it. 

And  it  is  at  that  moment  when,  in  intense  realisa- 
tion of  his  father's  sorrow,  and  in  sympathy  with  it, 
he  loved  Jacob  and  Benjamin  enough  to  say:  "I 
give  myself  to  bondage  or  death,  if  only  they  may  be 
happy,"  that  not  only  his  sin  against  Joseph  was 
blotted  out  from  his  conscience  —  he  could  not  have 
felt  its  burden  again  —  but  also,  that  he  reached 
nobleness  —  one  whom  even  Joseph,  his  brother, 
should  praise.  We  who  have  seen  him  prudent, 
stern,  clear-headed,  wise  in  the  handling  of  the 
world  might  not  unfairly  think  him  incapable  of 
the  greater  passions,  of  losing  himself  utterly  for 
another,  of  throwing  all  away  for  love.  Yet  so  it 
was.  He  was  the  first  of  all  these  men,  the  wisest, 
the  strongest,  the  most  capable,  the  most  trusted ; 
master  of  a  full,  successful,  and  wealthy  life,  in 
the  prime  of  his  manhood,  and  with  all  his  plans 
and  thoughts  in  working  order  in  his  brain.  And 
he  threw  them  all  at  the  feet  of  love,  not  the  love 
of  woman,  for  Vv^hich  men  have  often  done  this  deed, 
but  for  love  of   a  boy  and  an  old  man  who  were 

123 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

\  wrapt  up  in  each  other,  for  the  natural  piety  of  a 
son  and  a  brother.  The  same  passionate  nature 
which  we  have  seen  break  forth  in  hatred,  in  anger, 
in  indignant  justice,  in  a  half  scorn  of  weakness, 
now  broke  out  in  a  rush  of  self-sacrifice.  There 
the  true  king  of  men  appeared.  He  needed  but 
that  to  fulfil  his  nature.  The  lion  of  Judah  became 
at  one  with  the  spirit  of  the  Lamb  of  God.  Judah' s 
character  reached  its  finished  height  —  clear  intel- 
lect, strong  justice,  intense  love  —  brain,  conscience, 
and  heart  wrought  together  into  a  whole.  Truly 
said  Jacob,  "  Thou  art  he  whom  thy  brethren  shall 
praise." 

Lastly,  we  get  one  more  hint  of  his  life.  It  is  a 
pleasant  one  for  the  imagination,  and  it  brings  the 
end  of  this  discourse  into  connection  with  the  begin- 
ning, for  both  touch  the  interests  of  history.  We 
are  told  that  Jacob  going  down  to  Egypt  sent  Judah 
before  him  to  meet  Joseph.  Benjamin  is  kept  by 
the  father's  side,  but  the  wise  and  just  and  tender 
man  is  sent  to  greet  the  great  prince,  the  great 
genius,  and  the  well  beloved  son.  It  was  Jacob's 
forgiveness  of  the  wrong  of  Judah.  It  was  the  ex- 
pression of  Jacob's  gratitude  to  Judah  and  his  trust 
in  him.  And  when  Joseph  met  Judah,  he  must 
have  loved  him.  For  if  Judah  had  sold  Joseph, 
he  had  offered  his  life  for  Benjamin.      Of  all  the 

124 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAH 

brothers  he  was  the  only  one  with  whom  Joseph 
could  now  be  a  close  friend.  Both  were  kingly 
men,  each  had  won  eminence  over  others,  each 
knew  the  world,  and  both  had  proved  their  heart. 
They  met  and  stood  together,  and  around  them  the 
chariots  and  troops  of  Joseph;  and  the  sight  is 
worthy  of  the  eye  of  history.  For  there  on  the 
threshold  of  the  land  where  their  race  was  to  grow 
into  a  great  multitude,  met  in  thought  the  two 
great  Kingdoms  of  Israel  and  Judah.  Ephraim, 
the  leader  and  royal  tribe  of  Israel,  came  of  Joseph. 
In  Judah  lay  all  the  great  time  of  David  and  Solo- 
mon, and  the  later  history  of  the  Jews.  It  was  a 
royal  meeting.  Men  looked  at  both  and  wondered. 
The  Egyptians  stood  round  Joseph,  and  all  thought 
him  the  greatest,  and  it  was  so  then.  Judah  stood 
alone,  but  around  him  stand  in  the  view  of  history 
all  the  greatest  men  of  the  Jewish  race,  all  its 
greatest  work  and  thought  —  David,  Solomon, 
Isaiah,  Nehemiah,  Jesus  —  and  great  as  Joseph 
was  then,  Judah  was  yet  greater. 


t25 


FREEDOM    FROM    EGYPT 


FREEDOM    FROM   EGYPT 

"  Let  my  people  go  that  they  may  serve  meP 

Exodus  ix.  i. 

npHE  tribe  of  the  "Sons  of  Israel"  lived,  after 
-■-  their  patriarchal  life  in  Canaan,  in  Egypt; 
there  they  multiplied  and,  with  other  dependent 
tribes  and  the  peasants  of  Egypt,  were  greatly 
oppressed  by  the  ruling  classes,  and  chiefly  in  the 
huge  building  and  canal  operations  which  were 
carried  out  by  Rameses  11.  and  his  successor;  they 
revolted  and  fled  over  the  isthmus  of  Suez  into  the 
peninsula  of  Sinai,  where  they  wandered  until  they 
broke  upon  the  Canaanitish  tribes,  and  finally  grew 
into  a  nation.  Their  leader  was  Moses,  who  is  as 
real  as  the  Exodus  itself.  So  much,  at  least,  is  his- 
tory. But  legend  soon  gathered  round  the  events 
of  the  Exodus  and  the  figure  of  Moses.  Poet  after 
poet,  patriot  after  patriot,  story-teller  after  story- 
teller, took  up  the  old  tale,  until,  more  than  four 
centuries  after  the  Exodus  —  at  least  so  critics  have 
come  to  believe  —  the  various  legends  of  Moses 
9  129 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

and  his  chief  men  were  thrown  into  a  single  story, 
which  afterwards  underwent  still  further  changes, 
additions,  and  priestly  and  prophetic  editings.  At 
last  it  was  secured  in  the  form  in  which  we  possess 
it  in  the  Bible.  We  have  not,  then,  in  this  story,  a 
true  history  of  Moses  and  the  Exodus,  but  we  have 
a  poetic  story  with  all  the  powers  and  humanity  of 
poetry,  and  moreover  a  veritable  picture  of  what  the 
best  men  of  Israel,  in  the  hour  of  their  imagination, 
thought  and  believed  four  and  five  centuries  after  the 
Exodus.  And  this  picture  is  deliberately  religious 
in  aim.  It  tells  us  then  not  only  what  the  Israelites 
thought  at  that  date  about  human  affairs,  but  about 
divine  affairs,  and  this  has  the  greatest  possible 
interest  for  us.  Furthermore,  it  is  a  tale  even  more 
national  than  that  of  Genesis.  It  begins  with  the 
birth  of  Moses;  its  action  begins  with  the  mission 
God  gives  to  the  deliverer  in  the  bush  land  of  Sinai ; 
it  ends  with  the  death  of  Moses.  But  the  most 
passionate  moment  of  it  is  the  deliverance,  the 
Exodus,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  book.  That 
has  become  the  image  of  a  thousand  similar  deliver- 
ances, of  the  resurrection  from  slavery  and  from 
death  in  life,  of  peoples,  of  societies,  of  classes,  of 
the  personal  soul.  As  such,  it  has  been  chosen  as 
the  type  of  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  of  Easter  Day, 
and  on  this  Easter  Day  we  choose  one  moment  in 

130 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

its  Story  for  our  subject  —  the  bold  demand  that 
Moses  made  upon  Pharaoh  in  the  name  of  Jehovah : 
"  Let  my  people  go  that  they  may  serve  me." 

There  is  no  need  to  tell  the  story  itself,  but  there 
is  always  need  to  ask,  What  are  its  lessons  for  our 
modern  life  —  that  is,  what  are  the  human  elements 
in  the  story,  and  what  their  analogies  to-day  in  State 
and  Church?  Well,  first,  we  have  a  picture  of  a 
huge  and  complicated  Egyptian  society:  a  great 
king,  great  nobles,  a  powerful  priesthood  mixed  up 
with  the  State,  a  body  of  rich  and  comfortable 
citizens  and  tradesmen ;  and  below  a  multitude  of 
peasants  and  slaves  and  poor  folk  who  were  used  by 
the  upper  classes  to  do  their  work  and  to  minister  to 
their  luxury,  who  were  always  in  complaint,  some- 
times in  revolt,  who  were  fearfully  punished  if  they 
revolted,  and  driven  to  harder  labour  if  they  com- 
plained. "They  are  idle,  they  are  idle,"  was  then 
the  cry,  "  unthrifty  dogs !  Double  their  burdens, 
keep  them  down.  Give  them  no  straw  for  their 
bricks;  let  them  find  it  for  themselves,  and  exact 
the  same  tale  of  bricks  from  them."  This  was  the 
fate  of  the  working  peasant  of  Egypt,  and  it  has 
been  their  fate  from  generation  to  generation.  But 
the  matter  became  complicated  somewhat  when  the 
same  fate  was  imposed  on  a  free  tribe  of  strangers, 
whom  the  King  of  Egypt  chose  to  degrade  to  the 

131 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

status  of  slaves  because  it  was  said  that  they  had 
multiplied  too  much  for  the  safety  of  society. 
These  folk  had  traditions  of  liberty.  Their  patri- 
archs had  lived  in  freedom.  They  had,  in  Egypt, 
lived  on  the  borders  of  the  desert,  and  till  lately 
had  been  free  tributary  tribes.  Their  enslavement 
had  only  lasted  a  few  generations.  Even  in  that 
short  time  it  had  partly  degraded  the  mass  of  the 
people.  But  it  had  not  taken  the  passion  of  freedom 
out  of  the  heart  of  the  better  men;  and  when  these 
came  forward  as  leaders,  the  mass  of  the  people 
had  the  energy,  which  the  Egyptian  peasant  had 
not,  to  follow  their  leaders  into  the  freedom  of  the 
wilderness. 

This  was  some  thousands  of  years  ago,  and  yet, 
save  for  the  mere  name  of  slave,  it  has  a  very  modern 
sound.  We  have  got  rid  of  the  lash  and  the  mines, 
and  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  the  slave  and 
the  worker;  but  the  thing  itself  is  never  far  away 
from  us.  There  has  been  a  certain  minishment  of 
it  within  the  last  hundred  years;  but  towards  the 
end  of  the  last  century  things  on  the  Continent  and 
even  in  England,  were,  practically  speaking,  as  bad 
if  not  worse  than  they  were  in  Egypt.  Society  — 
the  institution  of  slavery  excepted  —  was  then  built 
on  the  same  lines  as  it  was  in  Egypt;  and  even  to 
this  day  the  lines  on  which  our  society  is  built  are 

132 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

much  the  same.  They  are  slowly  changing,  and 
changing  for  the  better;  but  if  we  compare  our 
modern  world  with  the  conception  of  the  kingdom 
and  of  the  society  which  Christ  desired,  the  differ- 
ence between  the  society  of  the  Pharaohs  and  of 
London  to-day  is,  face  to  face  with  that  compari- 
son,  small  indeed. 

What,   however,   does  this  book  say  concerning 
this  matter?     What  did  the  Jews  who  wrote  this 
Exodus-tale   think    about    it?      The   mass    of    our 
respectable   society  takes  this  book   as  its  guide. 
These  Exodus  chapters  are  read  in  every  church  in 
England  at  this  time  of  the  year.     Have  they  ever 
been  applied  by  society  to  its  own  conditions  ?    Has 
our   government   ever   thought   what    they   mean  ? 
The  conception  of  their  writers  is  this:  That  when 
any  society  such  as  this  exists,  which  uses  up  the 
labour  of  the  peasant  and  the  mechanic  for  its  luxury 
and  to  increase  its  wealth;  and  drives  them  to  over- 
whelming labour,  whether  as  of  old,  by  the  lash, 
or  as  now  for  the  support  of  social  conditions  which 
virtually  impose  starvation  on  those  who  rebel  or 
complain  —  God  Himself  is  at  war  with  it,  and  is 
at  the  head  of  the  revolt  against  it;  it  is  He  who 
sends  the  leaders  to  protest  against  its  oppression; 
it  is  He  who  plagues   the  society  with  woes  and 
dangers :  it  is  He  who,  with  a  mighty  hand  and  a 

133 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

stretched-out  arm,  delivers  the  people  whose  afflic- 
tion He  has  seen,  and  who  cries  in  the  ears  of  those 
who  make  their  power  and  their  wealth  out  of  the 
overwhelming  labour  of  the  poor,  '*  Let  my  people 
go,  that  they  may  serve  me. " 

Let  modern  society  look  to  it,  not  only  here  in 
England  —  where  men,  I  honestly  believe,  are 
thinking  and  caring  more  than  elsewhere  for  this 
matter,  but  not  as  yet  enough  —  but  all  over  the 
civilised  world,  in  France,  in  Germany,  and  Aus- 
tria, in  Italy,  and  above  all,  in  America;  for  unless 
they  do,  unless  they  listen  to  the  cry,  "  Let  my 
people  go  that  they  may  serve  me,"  plagues  will 
fall  upon  them,  and  they  shall  knov/  that  a  resurrec- 
tion of  the  downtrodden  often  means  a  destruction  of 
the  Egyptians.  This  is  the  teaching  of  this  book. 
This  is  the  lesson  to  States  which  the  freedom- 
loving  spirit  of  the  Israelite  has  handed  down  to 
posterity,  and  bound  up  with  the  name  of  Jehovah. 
It  sins  by  its  violent  and  unloving  spirit.  A  dif- 
ferent way  of  doing  the  same  thing  belongs  to  the 
teaching  of  Jesus.  But  though  the  way  is  different, 
the  thing  remains.  Wherever  there  is  oppression, 
wherever  the  conditions  are  the  same  or  similar  to 
those  in  Egypt,  wherever  labour  is  unjustly  weighted, 
and  unshared  by  all,  wherever  the  poor  are  over- 
done,   God   sees  their   affliction    in   the  end,  and 

134 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

comes  down  to  deliver.  When  the  tale  of  bricks  is 
doubled,  Moses  comes;  and  it  will  depend  entirely 
on  the  spirit  of  the  more  comfortable  classes  in 
society,  on  their  conscience  of  the  wrongs  of  their 
social  system  and  on  their  efforts  to  cure  them, 
whether  they  are  saved  so  as  by  fire,  or  altogether 
swept  away.  The  punishment,  which  is  the  strict 
and  just  reaping  of  exactly  that  which  has  been 
sown,  is  in  proportion  to  the  crime,  the  precise 
result  of  the  precedent  conditions.  There  is  no 
menace  in  the  story;  there  is  no  menace  in  the 
statement  that  I  make;  it  is  a  story  that  proclaims 
the  moral  law  which  rules  the  evolution  of  socie- 
ties; it  is  a  statement  of  that  which  is  certain  to 
be.  The  sanctions  of  the  law  of  justice  for  nations 
take  a  long  time  to  reach  their  full  effect ;  but  they 
are  as  sure  as  death.  Where  tJiose  conditions  are, 
this  will  follow.  If  the  conditions  are  fully  iniqui- 
tous, the  society  v/hich  permits  them  is  blotted  out; 
if  they  are  not  fully  iniquitous,  but  tempered  with 
just  effort  for  remedy,  that  society  is  gently  treated 
—  warned,  not  overthrown.  But  the  warning  must 
be  listened  to,  and  its  cry  obeyed,  else  a  louder 
thunder  rolls. 

We  are  beginning  to  understand  this  inevitable- 
ness  of  the  moral  law  for  nations,  as  well  as  for 
persons,  in  England;  but  we  shall  have  to  under- 

135 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Stand  it  far  better  than  we  do.  There  is  as  yet  no 
widespread  or  full  conviction  over  the  whole  of 
society  of  the  certainty  of  this  law.  If  there  were, 
citizens  would  live  differently,  feel  differently,  and 
never  rest  till  every  class  in  our  society,  every  per- 
son in  it,  had  equal  opportunities  to  be  in  as  good 
health  both  of  mind  and  body  as  an  athlete  is  in 
every  member  of  his  body.  Only  then  is  a  State 
moral,  only  then  is  a  State  religious.  It  were  well 
if  over  the  doors  of  the  Home  Office,  over  the  doors 
of  every  municipal  council,  over  the  doors  of  every 
parish  council  and  every  vestry,  there  were  written 
these  ancient  words :  "  Let  my  people  go  that  they 
may  serve  me."  And  when  all  this  work  of  man 
is  done;  this  work  of  God,  for  no  more  religious 
work  can  be  done  on  earth,  England  will,  as  a 
State,   know  the  meaning  of  Easter  Day. 

Secondly,  the  same  things  are  true  in  the  realm 
of  religious  history.  When  Jesus,  like  Moses, 
came  into  Palestine,  He  found  the  souls  and  minds 
of  men  as  heavily  burdened,  as  deeply  enslaved,  as 
the  bodies  of  the  Israelites  in  Egypt.  The  whole 
of  the  ceremonial  law  bore  as  bitterly  on  the  reli- 
gious lives  of  men  as  the  building  tasks  did  on  the 
slaves  of  Pharaoh.  "Ye  bind  on  men's  shoulders," 
said  Jesus,  "burdens  grievous  to  be  borne."  A 
multitude    of     doctrines    concerning     God    which 

136 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

limited  the  love  of  God,  and  of  ceremonies  which 
concerned  the  salvation  of  men,  made  religion  diffi- 
cult for  most,  impossible  for  the  publican  and  the 
outcast,  and  enslaved  the  intellect,  the  conscience, 
the  reason,  and  the  imagination  of  the  Jews.  Most 
of  them  had  to  make  bricks  without  straw.  It  is 
not  that  the  Pharisees  and  Scribes  and  the  priests 
were  worse  at  this  time  than  other  ecclesiastics 
and  their  crew  have  been  at  other  times  in  history. 
It  is  not  that  the  spirit  which  slaughtered  Christ 
in  Jerusalem  has  been  confined  to  the  priesthood  of 
Israel.  In  the  Church  of  Christ  itself,  from,  gener- 
ation to  generation,  and  at  the  present  day,  the 
iniquitous  insistence  on  rites  and  ceremonies  as 
necessary  to  salvation;  the  doctrines  which  exclude 
men  and  women  on  any  pretext  whatever  from  sal- 
vation; the  condemnation  in  the  name  of  God  of 
the  innocent,  of  those  who  think  for  themselves, 
of  the  unbelievers  in  fixed  creeds ;  the  pictures  of 
a  God  of  vengeance  and  injustice;  the  dreadful 
schemes  of  salvation  which  insult  love  in  God,  and 
paint  human  nature  in  the  dyes  of  hell  —  have  been 
worse  far  than  any  with  which  Jesus  came  into  con- 
tact, and  had  He  appeared  among  those  who  taught 
these  views  He  would  have  been  burned  alive. 
Were  He  to  appear  now,  and  preach  His  faith 
among  us,  He  would  not  be  slain,  but  He  would 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

be  despised  and  rejected  of  religious  society.  No; 
the  spirit  of  the  Jewish  priesthood  was  no  worse 
than  the  spirit  of  priesthood,  whether  in  Church  or 
Dissent,  has  ever  been.  That  spirit  has  always 
oppressed  the  souls  of  men.  It  has  more  or  less, 
in  proportion  to  its  love  of  power,  enslaved  their 
conscience  and  their  reason,  and  crushed  the  freedom 
of  the  life  of  the  spirit.  Good  men  have  been  many 
among  these  priests;  there  have  been  many  who 
have  truly  lived  and  loved  like  Jesus;  but  their 
organisations  —  with  their  love  of  authority  in  Sect 
and  Church  alike;  and  their  creeds,  when  they 
claim  to  be  believed  on  peril  of  damnation;  and 
their  ceremonies,  which  are  made  to  limit  freedom 
of  form;  and  their  tradition  of  divine  authority; 
and  their  supernatural  claimis  which  divide  them 
from  other  men  and  give  them  a  false  and  base 
power  —  these  have  made  them  the  Pharaohs  of  the 
soul  of  man.  And  the  Almighty  Love  who  rules 
the  world  has  seen  again  and  again  the  affliction  of 
His  children,  and  has  come  down  to  deliver  them. 
Moses  has  come  many  times  in  the  history  of 
religion.  Prophet  after  prophet  has  cried  in  the 
name  of  God:  "Let  my  people  go;"  and  delivered 
the  soul  of  man.  There  has  been  exodus  after 
exodus  from  this  Egypt  —  overthrow  after  over- 
throw of  the  power  of  these  Pharaohs. 

138 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

Among  all  these  deliverers  none  has  been  so 
great  a  deliverer  as  Jesus  Christ.  He  spoke  to 
the  priests  as  Moses  spoke  to  Pharaoh.  He  broke 
their  ecclesiastical  law.  He  dissolved  the  neces- 
sity of  their  ceremonies.  He  brought  the  Gospel 
to  the  hearts  of  those  whom  they  scorned  and 
oppressed.  Their  enemies  vv^ere  His  friends,  their 
doctrines  about  God  were  His  horror.  Where  they 
excluded,  He  accepted.  Their  whole  organisation, 
and  the  power  it  exercised  over  the  soul,  He  stood 
against,  because  it  was  against  love,  and  they  killed 
Him  for  it.  But  what  He  taught  did  not  die. 
There  is  nothing  needed  for  salvation  but  the  love 
of  God  and  man.  When  that  is  in  the  heart  of 
men,  they  have  no  need  of  creeds  or  ceremonies  or 
priests.  There  is  no  authority  but  that  of  love, 
and  whoever  loves  is  his  own  authority,  for  he 
dwells  in  God  and  God  in  him.  God  is  the  Father 
of  men,  and  all  are  equally  His  children.  Let  the 
child  love  his  divine  Father,  let  the  brother  love 
the  brother,  and  they  are  independent  of  creeds, 
and  opinions,  and  ceremonies,  and  Churches,  and 
sects.  That  was  the  final  conclusion  of  His  teach- 
ing, and  He  brought  it  home  to  the  religious 
oppressors  of  His  day.  He  stood  in  pity  by  all 
crushed  and  weary  souls,  and  cried  to  their  ty- 
rants :  "  Let  my  people  go  that  they  may  serve  the 

,139 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Father;  **  and  with  a  mighty  hand  and  a  stretched- 
oiit  arm  the  spirit  of  man  went  forth  into  a  free 
life.  It  was  the  resurrection  of  the  soul  of  human- 
ity —  for  the  time.  Yes,  only  for  a  time,  for  the 
great  Pharaohs  of  formalism,  of  creed-imposing, 
and  of  earthly  power  masking  in  a  religious  dress, 
closed  in  again  on  the  world,  like  greedy  wolves. 
But  that  great  resurrection  which  Christ  had 
wrought  held  in  it  the  power  of  others,  and  each 
that  has  followed  has  been  more  free  and  active 
against  the  spiritual  Egyptians,  and  will  be  more 
active  and  more  free,  until  the  dawn  of  that  final 
Easter  Day,  when  the  soul  of  man  shall  stand  face 
to  face  with  the  Father  alone,  risen  into  an  endless 
love. 

That  day  may  not  be  so  far  away  as  we  imagine, 
but  yet  it  must  sometimes  seem  to  us  as  if  we  were 
still  in  Egypt,  as  if  no  deliverer  from  spiritual 
bondage  had  ever  come  to  lead  us  out  of  captivity. 
When  I  think  of  all  the  poor  and  oppressed  souls 
working  out  with  pain  and  trouble  their  inner  lives 
under  the  tyranny  of  their  religion  —  I  might  say 
under  the  tyranny  of  their  religious  teachers,  were 
it  not  that  the  teachers  suffer  often  as  terribly  as 
the  taught  —  crushed  to  the  very  ground  of  their 
heart  by  the  terrible  image  of  their  God,  and  of  all 
He  requires  of  them;  told  that  unless  they  believe 

140 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

with  their  whole  soul  a  string  of  doctrines  framed 
by  the  intellect  alone  in  its  austerest  hour  of  scho- 
lastic logic,  they  will  be  lost;  that  unless  they  con- 
fess the  necessity  to  salvation  of  certain  rites  and 
ceremonies  they  can  have  no  communion  with  God 
at  all;  terrified,  even  the  best  and  gentlest  of  them, 
by  the  thought  that  God  is  watching  for  their  fall 
and  ready  to  pounce  upon  them ;  miserable  with  the 
idea  that  there  is  no  certainty,  that  their  final  hap- 
piness with  God  is  little  better  than  a  chance— for 
how  do  they  know  that  their  belief  is  quite  right? 
—  sometimes  lost  in  questioning,  sometimes  dis- 
tracted with  doubt,  sometimes  despairing;  and  the 
better  they  are,  the  more  delicate  in  conscience, 
and  the  more  spiritual  in  imagination,  the  more 
tormented;  small  freedom  in  love,  little  peace  in 
life,  troubled  even  in  death;  when  I  think  of  all 
this,  the  misery  of  the  good  makes  me  tremble  with 
indignation  against  the  theologies  that  have  forgot- 
ten the  deliverance  of  Jesus.  I  would  to  God  that 
thousands  would  speak  with  the  power  of  Moses 
and  the  mightier  voice  of  Jesus  to  the  Churches 
and  sects  which  keep  up  these  slaveries,  and  who 
do  not  believe  that  God  is  always  victorious  love: 
"  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Let  my  people  go  that  they 
may  love  me." 


141 


II 


FREEDOM    FROM   EGYPT 

"  Let  my  people  go  that  they  may  serve  me^ 

Exodus  ix.  i. 

'THHE  cry  of  God,  on  the  lips  of  Moses,  to  the 
-^  Pharaoh  of  Egypt  —  "  Let  my  people  go  that 
they  may  serve  me  "  ■ —  may  be  repeated  to-day,  as 
I  have  shown,  to  the  Pharaohs  of  our  society  by 
whom  men  and  women  are  kept  in  a  state  of  virtual 
slavery,  and  to  the  Pharaohs  of  Church  and  Dissent 
who  keep  in  a  like  slavery  the  conscience,  the  rea- 
son, and  the  spirit  of  man.  There  is  yet  another 
analogy  on  which  I  must  speak — an  analogy  drawn 
from  the  spiritual  life  within  us  all,  and  to  which 
this  cry  of  Moses  has  an  incessant  application.  But 
before  I  speak  of  that,  it  is  better  to  put  clearly 
how  it  happens  that  this  story  can  be  used,  in  this 
symbolic  fashion,  to  represent  so  many  human 
things.  If  it  were  a  true  history,  if  it  were  an 
accurate  statement  of  facts,  it  would  not  be  possi- 
ble to  make  it  apply  so  widely.     Too  many  special- 

143 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

ised  elements  would  then  enter  into  it,  and  spoil 
its  universal  application.  But  conducted  by  the 
imagination,  which,  as  I  have  said,  seizes  the  uni- 
versal and  neglects  the  particular,  it  speaks  to 
common  human  nature.  The  human  soul,  working 
slowly  through  centuries,  shaped  it,  and  it  natu- 
rally represents  humanity.  It  is  not  a  true  history 
of  the  Hebrews,  but  it  is  a  true  history  of  a  great 
part  of  human  life.  Therein  lies  its  power  and  its 
inspiration.  And  there  is  that  which  enables  us 
to  apply  it  to  our  own  day,  to  our  political,  social, 
religious,  and  spiritual  life.  It  may  be  used  as 
symbol,  it  may  be  used  as  allegory.  And  the  proof 
that  it  may  be  used  in  this  way  is  that  it  has  always 
been  so  used.  Just  as  the  great  epics  and  the  great 
myths  have  been  used,  so  has  this  story.  It  has 
been  applied  to  a  thousand  conditions  of  society  in 
the  long  centuries  which  have  passed  since  it  was 
written.  It  has  represented  the  whole  progress  of 
religious  life,  at  all  times,  in  Jewish  and  Christian 
hearts.  There  is  scarcely  a  single  event  in  the 
Wandering  of  Israel  which  has  not  been  made  to 
symbolise  a  stage  in  the  spiritual  wandering  of  the 
soul  from  the  slavery  of  sin  to  the  entrance  into 
the  heavenly  Canaan.  Egypt,  the  Red  Sea,  Sinai, 
Jordan,  Canaan,  have  all  become  names  for  spiritual 
conditions  of  the  soul;  and  the  great  deliverance 

144 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

which  Moses  initiated  in  the  words  of  the  text  repre- 
sents to  us  now  the  deliverance  of  humanity  by 
Jesus,  and  the  personal  deliverance  of  each  man 
from  the  bondage  of  sin  into  the  glorious  liberty  of 
the  children  of  God.  This  has  been  the  constant 
symbolic  use  of  this  story.  Its  historical  truth 
has  been  entirely  replaced  by  its  symbolic  truth. 
Therefore,  we  have  a  perfect  right  to  use  it  to 
illustrate  certain  states  of  slavery  in  which  the  soul 
is  involved,  and  our  deliverance  therefrom. 

The  soul  is  a  commonwealth,  or  may  practically 
be  thought  of  as  a  commonwealth.  It  has  its  great 
rulers :  the  will,  the  conscience,  the  reasoning  fac- 
ulty, imagination,  the  power  of  worship,  the  love  of 
beauty,  the  love  of  love.  It  has  its  great  burghers : 
the  senses,  the  appetites,  the  passions,  the  tradi- 
tional thoughts  and  emotions  which  have  come 
down  to  it  through  the  centuries;  and  below  these, 
there  are  a  multitude  of  labourers  —  hosts  of  small 
desires  and  motives  and  fancies  and  transient  feel- 
ings, and  impressions  from  without,  who  supply 
the  great  rulers  and  the  great  citizens  of  the  king- 
dom with  their  food,  their  luxuries,  their  amuse- 
ments, their  work,  and  their  pleasures.  Enormous 
as  this  London  of  ours  is,  varied  and  passionate  as 
we  know  its  life  to  be,  it  often  seems  to  us  that 
the  realm  within  each  person  is  greater,  and  the 
lo  145 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

indwellers  of  the  soul  more  varied  and  more  multi- 
tudinous. This  is  each  man's  microcosm,  as  it 
used  to  be  called,  his  little  cosmic  realm,  where 
all  that  is  in  the  greater  cosmos  is  reflected  or 
represented. 

The  soul  may  be  a  just  commonwealth,  in  which 
every  indweller  has  his  fitting  weight  and  work,  in 
which  all  the  powers  of  man,  in  perfect  health  and 
in  mutual  and  due  subordination,  and  yet  in  full 
individuality,  work  together  towards  the  noble  end 
and  perfection  of  the  whole  being,  for  the  sake  of 
the  vaster  life  of  all  the  spiritual  beings  of  the  uni- 
verse. For  we  are  all  knit  together,  being  all  in 
God,  and  the  life  of  every  soul  influences  in  varied 
and  unknown  ways  the  life  of  all  the  personalities 
of  a  boundless  universe.  But  the  soul  may  cease  to 
be  a  just  commonwealth,  and  become  a  tyranny.  It 
may  be  like  Egypt,  enslaved  under  one  power,  one 
passion,  one  appetite,  or  one  desire.  Then  all  the 
other  powers  and  faculties  are  used  up  for  the  sake 
of  the  one  tyrant,  and  the  soul  suffers  degradation. 
For  these  Pharaohs  of  the  soul  their  slaves  build 
treasure  cities  where  the  oppressors  stow  away  their 
indulgences  and  their  pleasures,  base  things  in 
which  they  take  a  base  delight.  They  force  into 
servile  doing  of  their  will  all  the  powers  of  the 
imagination,  the  reason  and  the  heart,  so  that  these 

146 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

powers  must  do  no  good  thing,  or  seek  for  good  no 
more.  Under  their  rule,  all  the  work  the  soul 
performs  is  vile,  shameful  and  coerced;  and  when 
the  soul  has  no  more  means  to  do  it,  when  the 
imagination  is  exhausted,  and  the  reason  dry,  and 
the  affections  cold,  it  is  still  forced  on  by  the  tyrant 
lust  or  the  tyrant  passion  to  do  the  same  monoto- 
nous work,  do  it  while  it  sickens  the  soul  to  do 
it,  making  its  bricks  without  straw,  lashed  on  by 
drunkenness  or  gluttony,  by  lust  or  pleasure,  by 
hatred,  ambition,  pride,  or  self-will,  by  any  over- 
mastering passion  —  dreadful  taskmasters  !  It  is 
Egyptian  bondage,  a  state  of  shame  and  degrada- 
tion. O,  well  we  know  this  tyranny!  And  bit- 
terly we  cry,  and  long  in  vain  against  it,  until  at 
last  the  Christ  within  us  rises  up,  and,  standing 
face  to  face  with  the  Pharaoh  of  self-will,  of  appe- 
tite, or  of  evil  passion,  cri^s  against  it  in  prophetic 
wrath,  ''  Let  my  people  —  let  the  other  powers  of 
the  soul  whom  thou  hast  enslaved  to  thy  accursed 
greed,  let  all  its  inhabitants  go  free,  that  they  may 
serve  the  Lord  and  serve  mankind." 

This  is  a  plain  analogy,  but  there  are  others,  not 
quite  so  plain,  and  which  have  to  do  with  matters 
that  do  not  belong  to  vice  or  to  evil  passion.  The 
powers  of  the  soul  may  be  enslaved  to  one  power, 
which,  good  in  itself,  becomes  a  source  of  evil  and 

147 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

of  wrong  to  mankind,  when  it  seizes  on  all  the 
others  and  uses  them  only  for  its  own  purposes.  A 
good  man,  when  he  is  entrusted  with  sole  power 
over  a  nation,  over  a  class,  over  a  host  of  workmen, 
over  an  estate,  is  inevitably  tempted  by  the  lust  of 
power.  He  slowly  becomes  a  tyrant  determined  to 
subdue  all  wills  to  his  own;  and  he  ends  by 
oppressing  all  those  who  resist  him.  And  the 
better  his  nature  is  originally,  the  greater  is  often 
the  slavery  he  establishes. 

It  is  the  same  with  the  great  and  good  powers  of 
the  soul,  when  any  one  of  them  dominates  over  the 
rest.  When,  for  example,  the  moral  sense  so  seizes 
on  a  man  that  he  sees  no  other  master  in  his  soul, 
no  other  law  but  the  moral  law,  the  moral  sense 
becomes  Pharisaism.  It  finally  dwells  only  on  out- 
ward accordance  with  morality,  and  then  the  infinite 
outgoings  of  aspiration  and  the  winged  imagina- 
tions of  the  spirit  are  imprisoned  and  condemned  to 
slavish  labour ;  then  love  and  forgiveness  and  mercy 
are  sacrificed  to  tyrannic  demands  for  external  obedi- 
ence; then  the  reason,  when  it  complains,  is  bid  to 
hold  its  tongue ;  and  at  last  conscience  itself  —  which 
always,  when  it  is  natural,  falls  back  on  love  as  its 
guide  —  is  trodden  under  foot  by  the  moral  sense 
now  changed  into  a  tyrant,  ruined  by  despotism. 
That  is,  conscience,  when  it  keeps  all  the  powers 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

of  the  soul  in  slavery,  enslaves  also  its  true 
self. 

Then  love  and  imagination  and  reason,  rising 
together  in  indignation,  like  Moses  and  Aaron, 
ought  to  meet  the  Pharaoh  of  loveless  morality,  as 
pitiless  as  it  is  intolerant,  and  cry  against  it  this 
ancient  cry,  "Let  the  people  of  the  soul  go  free, 
that  they  may  love  again,  and  imagine  again,  and 
live  once  more  in  the  spirit,  and  not  in  the  letter 
of  the  law." 

Again,  the  same  things  are  true  when  the  mere 
reasoning  faculty  seizes  on  the  tyranny  of  the  soul. 
All  the  powers  of  faith  and  the  hopes  of  faith  are 
then  repressed.  What  we  call  the  spiritual  faculty, 
that  which  believes  in  an  unreached  perfection  of 
love  and  purity  and  embodies  it  in  God,  and  feels 
Him  as  its  source  and  head;  that  which  worships; 
that  which  lives  beyond  this  world  and  sees  another 
—  this  is  suppressed,  and  if  allowed  to  breathe  at  all, 
is  forced  to  do  the  work  of  the  understanding.  And 
not  only  these  spiritual  powers,  but  others  also 
suffer.  The  love  of  beauty,  the  power  of  seeing  it, 
remain  wholly  uneducated.  They  are  kept  to  slavish 
work,  if  they  are  allowed  to  work  at  all.  All  that 
vast  population  of  motives  and  impressions  from 
what  is  lovely  in  Nature  and  in  Art  is  driven  into 
a  corner  of  the  soul  and  condemned  to  silence  and 

149 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

imprisonment.  And  the  imagination  is  not  allowed 
to  have  a  word.  It  confuses  the  work  and  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  understanding.  And  fancy,  bright 
and  joyous  child,  is  chained  and  silenced,  so  that 
at  last  the  man  comes  to  say :  "  Once  I  could  love 
beauty,  now  I  do  not  know  it  when  I  meet  it ;  once 
I  could  love  the  work  of  art  —  music,  poetry,  paint- 
ing, sculpture  —  once  I  could  rejoice  as  I  lay  idle 
on  the  breast  of  Nature  and  listened  to  her  voice; 
now  all  these  things  disgust  me." 

This  is  the  Pharaoh  of  the  understanding,  and  an 
abominable  tyrant  he  is.  A  good  and  useful  fellow 
when  he  is  one  among  the  other  lords  of  the  soul 
and  does  his  work  along  with  the  rest;  but  set  up 
as  sole  monarch,  he  is  a  destroyer  and  enslaver.  It 
is  time  for  many  of  us  —  for  this  is  an  Egyptian 
condition  frequent  in  the  present  day  in  the  souls 
of  men,  even  more  in  the  souls  of  women  —  to  call 
in  our  affliction  if  we  would  be  free  men,  on  the 
spiritual  powers  in  us,  on  the  imagination,  on  the 
love  of  beauty,  and  on  the  spirit,  to  stand  before  this 
Pharaoh,  and  to  cry :  ''  Let  the  powers  you  have  en- 
slaved go  free,  that  they  may  serve  God  and  man. " 

Precisely  the  same  things  may  be  said  with  regard 
to  the  tyranny  which,  in  reaction  from  the  tyranny 
of  the  understanding,  has  become  so  common  among 
cultivated  folk  in  our  own  day  —  the  tyranny  of  the 

ISO 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

love  of  beauty  for  itself  alone.  That,  raised  into 
absolute  monarchy,  enslaves  the  reasoning  faculty, 
mocks  at  and  degrades  its  suggestions;  imprisons 
morality  and  bids  it  hold  its  tongue  lest  it  interfere 
for  the  search  for  pleasure  in  all  things.  It  allows 
some  liberty  to  the  spiritual  faculty,  not  indeed  to 
find  the  infinite  goodness  and  love,  but  to  add  a 
supernatural  flavour  to  beauty  on  this  earth ;  not  to 
impel  us  to  a  greater  love  of  man,  but  to  deepen 
love  of  one's  own  pleasure.  It  permits  the  imagi- 
nation to  work,  but  only  to  increase  the  materials 
of  sensual  beauty.  Thus  it  corrupts  the  soul ;  and 
itself,  though  one  of  the  noblest  of  our  powers, 
becomes,  when  it  tyrannises,  the  most  ignoble  per- 
haps of  all.  Having  begun  with  the  love  of  the 
heavenly,  it  ends  in  the  love  of  sensual  beauty. 
Then,  if  we  are  to  be  saved,  the  indignant  powers 
of  conscience,  reason,  love  of  man,  and  love  of  God's 
purity,  rise  like  Moses  and  Aaron  in  the  soul  and 
cry  to  this  Egyptian :  "  Let  us  go  and  sacrifice  to 
the  Lord  our  God."  The  wildest  wilderness  is 
better  than  these  flesh-pots  of  Egypt. 

Once  more;  things  are  just  as  evil  when  the 
spiritual  faculty  assumes  the  tyranny.  When  it  is 
allowed  to  enslave  the  understanding,  to  trample  on 
the  love  of  beauty  or  the  love  of  love,  to  twist  and 
torture  the  conscience,  to  reject  the  service  of  man 

151 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

for  the  service  of  God,  it  is  one  of  the  most  hateful 
of  all  the  oppressors  of  the  soul.  It  binds  us  down 
into  thinking  of  our  own  salvation  alone,  instead  of 
living  to  bring  salvation  to  others,  instead  of  believ- 
ing that  to  redeem  men  is  better  than  to  be  contem- 
plating our  own  redemption.  It  drives  men  into 
that  asceticism  which  makes  the  body  unhealthy 
and  then  the  intellect,  and  which,  by  despising 
human  love  and  natural  affection,  dries  up  the  very 
fountain  of  human  life,  and  divides  man  from  man. 
It  replaces  service  of  one  another  in  this  world  by 
a  useless  contemplation  of  the  other  world.  It 
prevents  us  from  trying  to  make  a  heaven  on  earth 
for  our  fellow  men,  by  fixing  our  eyes  on  a  heaven 
beyond  this  earth  for  ourselves.  It  wraps  us  up  in 
self  by  pretending  that  it  wraps  us  up  in  God.  It 
leads  us  to  persecute  those  who  do  not  agree  with 
us,  and  it  exercises  what  it  calls  charity  only  on 
those  who  think  about  God  in  the  same  way  as  we 
do.  At  every  point  it  kills  love,  which  is  the  only 
root  of  the  true  spiritual  life,  and  in  that  way  it 
destroys  —  when  it  is  thus  tyrannical  —  its  own 
spirituality.  Under  its  oppression,  human  affec- 
tion and  human  intelligence,  and  love  of  natural 
beauty,  and  of  pure  pleasure,  and  universal  love  of 
human  nature,  and  civic  and  social  morality,  and 
the  conscience  of  what  is  due  to  others,  and,  further, 

152 


FREEDOM  FROM  EGYPT 

the  work  of  conscience  in  our  own  lives,  are  all 
enslaved  and  degraded.  And  the  conclusion  is 
that  the  faculty  itself  is  enslaved,  and  what  sits 
on  the  throne  is  not  it,  but  its  false  image. 

Of  all  the  Pharaohs  who  beset  us,  it  is  the  most 
difficult  to  overcome,  for  it  makes  the  greatest 
pretensions  to  goodness,  and  to  rightfulness  of 
dominion.  But,  in  a  true  man,  who  seeks  for  the 
true  perfection  and  finish  of  every  part  of  his  nature 
in  God,  the  population  of  the  soul  will  revolt  against 
this  oppression;  the  reason  and  the  conscience,  the 
affections  and  the  imagination  will  lead  them,  like 
Moses  and  Aaron ;  the  very  senses  and  appetites  in 
their  just  subordination  will  join  in  the  rebellion; 
and  the  spiritual  faculty,  now  turned  into  a  priestly 
tyrant,  will  hear,  as  it  has  heard  many  times  in 
history,  and  a  million  million  times  in  the  souls  of 
men,  the  wrathful  cry  of  the  other  powers  of  the 
soul.  "Let  us  go  free  to  reach  our  individual 
excellence  in  liberty,  that  we  may,  one  and  all, 
serve  mankind,  and  in  serving  mankind  serve  the 
Lord  our  God.  But  thou,  who  wert  once  so  good, 
come  down  and  live  justly  among  us,  having  thine 
own  fit  importance,  and  no  more." 

These  are  analogies  every  man  will  feel  to  be  true 
in  his  own  life  or  in  the  lives  of  others :  and  the  con- 
clusion to  be  drawn  from  them  is  plain.     No  power 

153 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

of  the  body,  no  sense,  no  appetite,  not  one  of  the 
powers  of  the  soul  is  to  be  master.  Only  God  is 
the  Master  of  all,  and  God  is  Love.  Every  power 
of  the  body  and  the  soul  is  to  be  equally  developed 
in  freedom  to  its  own  perfection,  and  in  its  own 
due  proportion.  Some  powers  are  greater  than 
others,  but  their  greatness  is  to  be  shown,  not  in 
an  exclusive  lordship  over  the  rest,  but  in  the 
greatness  of  their  service  to  the  rest.  The  whole 
man,  to  the  remotest  recesses  of  every  faculty  of 
his  nature,  is  to  be  wrought  into  completion  in  the 
service  of  God  and  man.  Harmony,  not  tyranny, 
harmony  in  its  highest  sense,  such  as  the  Greek 
conceived  it  in  the  gods,  is  what  God  desires  in  the 
soul  He  made  to  be  at  one  with  Him  for  ever. 


154 


THE   DEATH   OF  MOSES 


THE   DEATH    OF   MOSES 

"So  Moses  the  servant  of  the  Lord  died." 

Deut.  xxxiv.  5. 

TT  THEN  this  account  in  the  book  of  Deuteron- 
omy, and  that  in  the  book  of  Numbers,  of 
the  death  of  Moses,  were  both  written,  the  person 
and  the  life  of  Moses  were  but  faintly  seen  through 
the  mists  of  centuries.  Nearly  seven  hundred 
years  had  rolled  away  since  the  death  of  the  great 
leader.  It  is  a  story,  not  history,  which  we  read 
when  we  read  of  the  dying  hours  of  Moses.  One 
thing  alone  we  know  —  that  he  did  die  before  the 
children  of  Israel  marched  into  the  promised  land. 
It  was  Joshua,  not  Moses,  who  led  them  to  conquest. 
It  seemed  strange  to  those  who  collected  all  they 
could  about  his  memory,  and  it  seems  strange  to  us, 
that  he  who  had  done  so  much  of  the  work  should 
neither  finish  the  work  he  had  begun,  nor  eat  the 
fruit  of  the  trees  that  he  had  planted.  It  is  a  con- 
stantly recurring  mystery,  a  constant  question  on 
our  lips.      For,   in  our  own  experience,  many  die 

157 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  moment  before  fruition.  "  One  soweth,  another 
reapeth,"  seems  almost  a  law.  It  is  hard,  we  think; 
yet  we  suspect  it  is  right.  The  plougher,  the  sower, 
is  not  likely  to  be  a  good  reaper.  Each  has  his 
place.  Let  him  keep  within  it.  Let  the  Master 
judge.  Moreover,  the  sheaves  we  like  best  to  reap 
and  carry  are  not  to  be  reaped  and  carried  here; 
that  is  rarely  in  the  order  of  things. 

This  question  came  forcibly  before  the  writers 
of  the  Pentateuch,  and  they  strove  to  answer  it 
according  to  the  ideas  of  their  time.  The  writer 
of  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  said  that  Moses  died 
at  the  hands  of  God  because  the  people  of  Israel 
had  sinned  against  Him.  The  leader,  it  was  then 
thought,  was  one  with  the  people,  and  the  sin  of 
the  people  was  laid  on  the  leader,  if  he  loved  them 
enough  to  take  its  punishment.  But  since  the 
leader,  in  this  case,  had  not  really  sinned,  then  if 
he  died  for  the  sin  of  the  people,  their  sin,  being 
imputed  to  him,  was  forgiven.  It  was,  then,  natu- 
ral that  Moses  should  be  punished  in  order  to  save 
his  people  from  punishment;  and  Moses,  upborne 
by  this  thought  of  sacrifice,  did  not  think  it  unjust 
that  he  should  die. 

This  is  the  thought  at  the  root  of  the  theory  of 
vicarious  atonement.  We  reject  it  as  making  God 
unjust,  as  a  legal  quibble  imputed  to  the  Highest, 

158 


THE   DEATH  OF  MOSES 

as  a  barbaric  idea;  and  it  did  not,  as  time  went  on, 
satisfy  even  the  Jews  themselves.  Hence,  another 
answer  to  the  question,  why  Moses  died,  was  in- 
vented about  the  very  date  when  the  book  of  Deu- 
teronomy was  written.  God  is  too  just  it  was 
thought  (and  the  view  appears  strongly  put  by  the 
Prophet  Ezekiel),  to  punish  any  man  for  another's 
sin.  Every  punishment  is  the  direct  consequence 
of  some  sin  which  the  punished  person  has  himself 
conrnitted.  Moses,  then,  sinned,  and  therefore 
he  died;  and  the  story  of  his  faithlessness  at  the 
Waters  of  Strife  was  put  forward  by  the  writer  of 
the  book  of  Numbers  as  the  reason  of  his  not 
entering  into  the  promised  land.  That  is  a  reason 
which  we  also  reject.  We  know  that  many  suffer 
the  results  of  sins  they  have  not  committed.  We 
believe  that  earthly  misfortune  is  no  proof  of  God's 
anger,  but  often  of  His  approval.  The  ministry  of 
Jesus  was  chiefly  sorrow  and  pain,  but  the  smile 
of  the  Father  always  rested  upon  it.  Both  the 
answers  of  the  Pentateuch  are,  then,   untrue. 

The  one  true  answer  is,  that  the  time  of  Moses 
had  come,  and  that  death,  when  he  died,  was  the 
greatest  good  that  could  have  happened  to  him; 
and,  moreover,  that  in  the  spiritual  world,  where 
God  and  man  meet,  Moses,  and  all  who,  like  him, 
die  in  faith  after  a  life  of  faithful  work,  have,  in 

159 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  hour  of  death,  not  the  sense  of  punishment,  but 
the  sense  of  divine  communion,  of  divine  blessing, 
of  pain  passing  into  overwhelming  joy.  I  think 
that  the  writer  of  Deuteronomy  himself  felt  this; 
that,  in  spite  of  his  theory,  it  penetrated  all  he 
wrote.  All  his  description  of  the  death  suggests 
the  presence,  the  friendship,  the  care  and  love  of 
God  for  his  dying  servant.  Let  us  then  take  the 
story  in  this  light,  look  into  it,  and  see  what  we 
can  gain  from  it. 

First,  then,  the  time  of  Moses  had  come.  We 
have  no  right  to  be  fatalists.  Our  business  here  is 
to  keep  clear  of  death,  to  fight  for  life,  as  long  as 
we  can  keep  death  at  bay  without  dishonour.  But 
when  a  man  dies,  it  is  in  the  harmony  of  nature 
that  he  dies.  It  is  a  part  of  order.  He  dies  from 
sufficient  cause,  and  the  cause  is  in  the  natural 
course  of  things.  It  could  not  have  been  other- 
wise, under  the  circumstances.  Of  course,  there 
are  those  who  deliberately  choose  death  for  the 
sake  of  a  great  truth.  These  are  the  witnesses  of 
truth  in  the  world,  but  they  are  apart  from  this 
argument. 

But  that  all  ordinary  deaths  are  in  the  natural 
order  of  the  universe,  is  a  truth  which  it  is  well  to 
keep  in  mind,  because  it  frees  grief  from  a  thought 
which  is  one  of  the  greatest  weights  of  sorrow.     It 

1 60 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES 

frees  it  from  the  thought  that  God  has  either  arbi- 
trarily caused  the  death,  or  arbitrarily  refrained 
from  saving  the  sick  from  death  when  He  could 
have  done  it.  "  Why  did  God  let  my  beloved  die  ?  " 
"  What  had  he  done  that  God  should  cause  him  to 
die?"  are  questions  which  are  asked  incessantly. 
They  are  questions  which  suppose  God  to  be  always 
working  miracles;  which  suppose  that  His  will  is 
capricious;  which  assume  that  He  is  apart  from 
the  order  of  nature,  and  continually  interfering 
with  it.  God  could  not  have  saved  your  beloved 
from  death  unless  He  had  worked  a  miracle,  and 
that  He  does  not  do.  It  is  not  an  arbitrary  act  of 
His  by  which  death  has  taken  place.  The  death 
happened,  and  it  could  not  have  happened  other- 
wise.    The  time  had  come. 

There  was  no  special  selection  of  the  hour  when 
Moses  should  die,  as  the  Biblical  writer  thinks. 
Death  came  when  it  had  to  come,  and  with  a  clear 
cause  attached  to  it.  Every  death  in  the  world, 
which  is  not  self-chosen,  occurs  in  that  way.  None 
are  arbitrary,  none  are  outside  order,  none  in  the 
world  of  miracle;  none  are  ever  capable  of  being 
avoided  by  any  means  outside  of  the  course  of 
"nature.  There  is  no  special  action  of  God,  either 
in  causing  or  in  saving  from  death. 

Therefore  we  have  no  right  to  say  that  God  is 
II  i6i 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

unkind  when  those  whom  we  love  die,  and  no  right 
to  ask  Him  to  violate  the  course  of  nature  in  order 
to  save  our  beloved,  and  then  to  blame  Him,  as  if 
He  refused  our  prayer.  God,  as  a  personal  friend 
of  ours,  has  nothing  to  do  with  our  outward  life  or 
death.  Our  relation  to  Him  is  a  spiritual  relation. 
Our  religion,  our  spiritual  life  with  Him,  is  in 
another  world  than  that  of  outward  phenomena. 
Our  comfort  with  Him,  when  we  are  separated 
by  death  from  our  friends,  is  in  the  belief  that  all 
whom  we  love,  dead  or  alive  on  earth,  are  spiritu- 
ally with  Him,  and  that  He  is  with  them  and  us, 
in  a  living  spiritual  communion,  which  life  and 
death  here  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with. 

The  time  of  Moses  had  come.  But  he  was  none 
the  less  with  God.  And  when  he  felt  the  time 
draw  near,  the  legend  says  —  and  it  may  well  be 
true  —  that  he  went  to  the  top  of  a  high  mountain 
whence  he  could  see  the  land  of  Israel's  heritage. 
Many  have  wished  —  it  is  especially  a  prophet's 
wish  —  to  be  alone  in  death,  alone  in  the  silence  of 
nature,  high  up,  nearer  the  stars,  where  one  may 
be  able,  in  the  absence  of  the  noise  of  earth,  to 
realise  the  nearness  of  the  invisible  Spirit. 

So  he  was  carried  to  the  top  of  Pisgah,  and  left; 
in  solitude  on  that  peak  of  Pisgah  which  is  called 
Nebo ;  and  from  thence  he  saw  the  country  prom- 

162 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES 

ised  to  his  fathers.  It  is  a  mighty  landscape, 
and  there  was  scarcely  a  point  in  it  which  did  not 
afterwards  become  a  memory  in  the  history  of  the 
Jewish  people,  scarcely  a  name  which  has  not  some 
significance  in  the  spiritual  history  of  mankind. 
There,  to  the  north,  lay  Gilead  and  the  mountain 
plateau  divided  by  the  ford  of  Jabbok,  rocky  plains, 
hill  pastures,  forests  of  oak  and  pine;  and  beyond, 
Gennesaret  and  Merom,  all  the  wild  land  on  either 
side  of  Jordan,  crowned  by  the  eternal  snows  of 
Hermon;  and  Lebanon  spread  its  cedars  far  away; 
and  towards  the  Great  Sea,  he  saw  the  cornfields  of 
Esdraelon,  the  mount  of  Carmel,  Gilboa,  and  the 
broken  highlands  where  Ephraim  was  soon  to  couch 
like  a  lion  in  his  den.  Nearer  at  hand,  more  to 
the  west,  was  the  plain  of  Judah,  and  nearer  still 
the  dry  limestone  rocks  of  Judah,  where,  years 
afterwards,  Israel's  Jerusalem  uprose,  even  more 
than  Rome  the  centre  of  the  imagination  of  the 
world.  And  below,  right  at  his  feet,  lay  the  Dead 
Sea,  in  its  crater-cup  of  hills,  and  Jericho  in  its 
pastures,  and  the  mountain  pass  that  led  to  the  hill 
that  men  afterwards  called  Zion. 

This  was  the  scene  that  met  his  dying  eyes. 
Alone  he  looked  on  it,  and  thought,  "This  is  the 
promised  land.  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  saw  it 
before  me.     They  were  but  pilgrims  in  it.     I  have 

163 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

worked  for  it ;  I  have  come  to  the  edge  of  it ;  1  may 
not  enter  into  it." 

And  as  he  lay  there  in  the  deep  silence,  his  first 
thought  was,  no  doubt,  regret.  "  Why,  having 
done  all  I  could  have  done,  may  I  not  see  the  end? 
Would  that  I  could  go  with  my  people  and  share 
their  glory  and  their  conquest !  Does  God  do  right 
to  take  me  away  now.'*  I  have  borne  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day;  why  should  I  not  taste  of  the 
grapes  of  Eshcol.?  " 

A  natural  first  thought !  But  it  would  not  last 
long  with  one  who  had  the  long  experience  of 
Moses.  He  would  soon  feel  that  his  work  was 
done;  that  what  he  had  specially  to  accomplish 
had  been  accomplished;  that  to  die  now  was  to  die 
exactly  at  the  right  moment,  at  the  very  crowning 
point  of  glory  and  completion ;  that  the  work  of  the 
future  would  be  better  done  by  other  hands  than 
his ;  that  the  great  warrior,  Joshua,  would  be  more 
fit  to  finish  that  which  the  great  law-giver  had 
begun.  Israel  had  been  wrought  by  him  into  one 
ordered  and  compact  body.  It  was  Joshua's  work 
to  launch  that  body  on  the  foe. 

"  I  shall  not  see,"  he  may  well  have  said  to  him- 
self, "the  end  with  my  mortal  eyes,  but  I  see  it 
now  with  the  eyes  of  faith  and  imagination.  All 
that  land  will  be  the  land  of   my  people.      I  see 

164 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES 

them  resting  in  its  possession,  and  I  see  it  without 
the  fierce  trouble  of  the  wars  which  they  will  have 
to  wage,  of  the  strife  of  policy  which  they  will  have 
to  guide  —  things  for  which  I  am  not  now  fit,  which 
my  age  could  not  endure.  The  vision  God  gives 
to  me  now  is  better  than  the  reality  would  be. 
Better  to  die  in  its  beauty  here,  in  full  faith  in  it, 
than  to  perish  by  slow  disease,  unable  to  fight,  un- 
able to  rule,  in  my  tent,  in  the  rear  of  the  army. 
Who  shall  say  that  I  do  not  enter  into  the  prom- 
ised land.'*  I  have  entered.  I  am  in  it,  as  it  will 
be  when  Joshua  comes  to  die,  when  peace  has  fallen 
on  the  conquest,  and  men  sit  at  ease  under  the 
olives.  God  is  right  to  let  me  die.  I  taste,  as  I 
should  never  taste  them  did  I  enter  in  with  the 
host,  of  the  grapes  of  Eshcol.  The  burden  and 
heat  of  the  past  are  well  rewarded.  My  work  is, 
in  God,  well  done.  I  look  below  on  the  tents  of  my 
people.  They  are  free,  ordered,  and  knit  together, 
healed  from  all  taint  of  the  old  slavish  life,  hardy, 
brave,  and  loving  one  another.  They  are  sure  of 
victory.  It  is  my  work,  it  is  finished.  I  thank 
God  that  His  presence  with  me  gave  me  power  to 
do  it.  Come,  Jehovah,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
receive  my  joyful  spirit !  " 

Death  was  a  good  to  him,  and  not  an  evil.     Can 
we  not  see  that .?     Why,  it  was  the  exact  hour  in 

i6s 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

which  he  ought  to  have  died.  Had  he  lived,  he  had 
been  unhappy.  Had  he  lived,  the  remembrance 
his  people  would  have  had  of  him  would  have  been 
of  one  who  was  past  his  work,  whom  Joshua  had 
replaced,  who  had  died  in  weakness  of  brain,  bereft 
of  force.  Now,  the  memory  was  indeed  different. 
He  died  in  the  fulness  of  his  glory,  with  all  his 
work  perfected.  Men  sorrowed  for  him,  but  the 
sorrow  was  soon  lost  in  the  thought  of  his  glory,  of 
all  he  had  left  to  man,  of  all  he  had  done  for  man. 
Not  one  unhappy,  not  one  strained  thought,  marred 
the  historic  memory  of  Moses.  Men  said  that  his 
eye  was  not  dim,  nor  his  natural  force  abated,  when 
he  passed  away. 

It  is  the  way  we  should  look  upon  our  dead,  even 
when  we  sorrow  most  for  them.  It  is  the  way  we 
should  ourselves  look  back  when  we  come  to  die. 
There  is  always  at  first  natural  regret  that  we  can- 
not go  on,  or  that  our  loved  ones  cannot  enter  into 
the  end  of  their  labours.  But  then,  when  we  think 
we  often  know,  at  least  when  the  work  done  has 
been  noble,  that  death  is  the  best.  To  go  on  till 
we  are  worn  out,  to  begin  a  new  labour  for  which 
we  are  unfitted  by  the  past  and  by  age,  is  nothing 
to  be  desired.  To  die  when  our  memory  will  be 
unspoilt  is  better;  to  die  when  none  can  say:  "He 
did  not  do  that  with  the  same  power ; "  to  die  when 

i66 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES 

what  we  were  fitted  to  do  has  been  well  done  — 
that  is  to  be  desired,  not  to  be  regretted.  It  was 
the  happy  fate  of  Moses,  it  is  the  happy  fate  of 
thousands  who  we  foolishly  wish  had  lived  longer, 
of  whom  had  they  longer  lived,  we  should  not 
have  such  beautiful  and  inspiring  memories,  who 
themselves,  had  they  lived  longer,  might  have, 
in  disappointment  and  in  weakness,  passionately 
desired  to  die. 

There  is  another  cry  which  may  be  answered 
within  the  same  realm  of  thought.  It  is  the  cry  of 
"waste."  When  men  die  in  the  fulness  of  their 
powers,  as  Moses  died,  we  think  that  there  is  a 
waste  of  power.  So  there  might  be,  if  the  power 
of  those  who  die  were  really  extinguished.  But 
that  is  not  our  belief.  Our  belief  is  that  it  is 
expanded,  ennobled,  set  at  once  to  work,  that  it 
can  do  its  work  better,  that  its  energies  are  more 
developed,  that  the  range  and  objects  of  its  work 
are  ten-fold  greater  and  more  numerous  than  they 
are  on  earth.  Waste !  when  God  and  His  work  are 
everywhere.  Waste!  when  the  whole  universe  of 
humanity  in  the  other  world  is  open  to  him  whom 
we  have  lost  on  earth.  Waste  of  power !  It  is  a 
thought  impossible  to  the  Christian  man,  as  he 
looks  upon  his  dead. 

Moreover,  even  without  the  belief  in  immortal- 
167 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

ity,  it  is  not  fitting  for  a  man  to  gaze  upon  his  dead 
and  say  that  there  is  waste  of  a  noble  life  because 
it  is  cut  short  by  death.  A  man  who  has  worked 
well,  who  has  loved,  who  has  won  love  by  loving, 
who  has  been  brave  and  true,  lives  on  in  power, 
lives  in  all  those  who  remember  him,  and  brings 
forth  fruit  in  them.  Lost  as  earthly  friends,  the 
dead  are  gained  as  spiritual  indwellers,  and  they 
even  move  us  forward  more  powerfully  to  noble 
ends  than  when  they  were  alive.  Our  wave  of 
love,  of  brave  battle,  of  sacrifice  for  truth,  of  ten- 
derness, sends  its  ripple  over  all  the  ocean  of 
humanity.  There  is  nothing  lost  of  our  life.  We 
lay  our  hands  on  men  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, and  bless  them.  Our  voice  sounds  in  the 
ears  of  a  greater  number  of  souls  than  it  did  when 
we  were  alive.  The  echoes  of  earth  die,  but  "our 
echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul,  and  grow  for  ever 
and  for  ever."  There  never  was  a  grain  of  waste 
of  love,  of  truth,  of  moral  strength,  of  spiritual 
inspiration. 

Then,  too,  there  is  the  cry  of  incompleteness,  the 
cry  I  have  already  alluded  to.  Men  die  before  they 
have  finished  their  work;  and  the  inference  is  that 
the  work  is  not  finished.  The  answer  is :  first,  that 
all  we  could  do  really  well  of  the  work  is  indeed 
finished ;  secondly,  that  the  work  is  not  left  unfin- 

i68 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES 

ished,  that  no  good  work  in  this  world  is  ever  left 
incomplete.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  we 
should  spoil  it  if  we  continued  it,  as  Moses  would 
not  have  been  able  to  do  the  work  of  Joshua.  When 
we  have  done,  as  Moses  did,  what  we  have  power 
and  wisdom  for,  God,  in  the  order  of  the  world, 
takes  the  work  out  of  our  hands  and  gives  it  to 
another  who  will  do  the  rest  better  than  we  could 
do  it.  If  we  lived  on,  the  work  would  then  be 
unfinished.  It  is  by  our  death  that  it  comes  to 
finish,  in  the  hands  of  another.  A  porcelain  cup 
passes,  in  a  great  manufactory,  from  hand  to  hand 
till  it  is  completed.  A  young  hand,  seeing  the 
cup  taken  from  him  without  the  handle,  might 
think,  "Alas,  why  may  I  not  finish.?  My  work 
is  spoiled. "  He  does  not  know  that  another  man 
in  the  next  room  will  put  on  the  handle  better 
than  he. 

It  is  thus  in  the  great  work  God  is  doing  in  the 
world.  We  are  His  workmen;  this  is  His  work- 
shop. Endless  sub-division  of  labour  prevails  in  it. 
Let  us  do  our  portion  manfully,  with  all  our  force 
and  knowledge,  and  then  we  may  be  certain,  in  the 
hour  of  our  death,  that  our  labour  will  be  hereafter 
finished.  The  work  is  not  only  ours,  but  God's; 
and  He  will  take  care  that  it  is  brought  to  its  per- 
fect end.     We  work  with  Him;  we  work  also  with 

169 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

all  the  fellowship  of  men  in  earth  and  in  heaven; 
and  our  death  leaves  nothing  which  will  not  be 
taken  up  into  the  whole  glory  of  God's  work  and 
man's,  and  fulfilled  therein.  There  is  no  incom- 
pleteness; there  is  nothing  which  is  left  unfinished. 

These  are  thoughts  which  make  the  hour  of  death 
an  hour  of  joy;  which  take  away  from  us,  when 
we  look  upon  our  dead,  all  sorrow  but  the  natural 
sorrow  of  parting. 

And  we  may  well  imagine  as  the  evening  deep- 
ened on  the  mountain-top,  and  the  land  below  grew 
dim  in  mist,  and  Moses  felt  God  draw  nearer  in 
the  twilight,  that  the  same  thoughts  entered  into 
the  soul  of  Moses,  and  his  regret  for  not  enter- 
ing the  land  passed  finally  away.  Nothing  was 
left  but  death  and  God.  Death  and  God  —  with 
thoughts  of  these  two  I  close. 

The  face  of  death  was  now  changed  to  him.  He 
had  seen  him  as  the  depriver  of  joy  and  work.  As 
the  cold  of  his  presence  came  closer,  he  was  seen 
as  the  releaser  and  the  friend.  The  dread  of  death, 
the  hatred  of  death,  belong  to  vigorous  health  and 
life.  It  is  a  matter  of  experience,  and  it  is  a  com- 
fort to  know  it,  that  as  death  draws  near,  our  dread 
and  hatred  disappear  in  our  weakness,  and  the 
enemy  becomes  the  friend.  We  are  glad  to  be  at 
rest. 

170 


THE  DEATH  OF  MOSES 

The  long  struggle  of  Moses  was  now  closed.  He 
remembered  how  hard  had  been  the  battle,  how 
constant  the  care,  how  unremitting  the  toil.  He 
remembered  the  pain,  the  sickness,  the  loneliness; 
and  he  was  pleased  the  trouble  had  come  to  its 
close.  It  was  no  ignoble  memory,  nor  an  ignoble 
pleasure.  The  battle  had  had  its  proud  joy,  the 
pain  its  noble  endurance,  the  anxiety  its  steady 
victory;  and  there  was  pleasure  in  the  recollection; 
and  yet,  now  that  the  time  had  come  and  that  it 
was  the  will  of  God,  it  was  a  happiness  to  think 
that  the  hour  of  repose  had  dawned ;  that  the  weary 
soldier  might  lay  down  his  armour.  He  need  think 
no  more  of  the  past,  nor  sorrow  any  more.  The 
future  was  before  him,  and  he  had  earned  his  rest. 
Nor  should  he  think  any  more  of  not  entering  into 
the  promised  land  with  Israel.  Why  should  he 
ever  have  regretted  that.?  There  only  wars,  fresh 
cares,  new  pain,  day  after  day,  of  weary  battle  would 
await  him.  Here,  in  death,  there  was  another 
Canaan,  the  substance  of  the  shadow  he  had  pur- 
sued so  long.  In  it  there  were  green  pastures  and 
still  waters,  and  the  Shepherd  of  the  soul.  "  I 
thank  thee,  my  God,  for  death,  for  my  release." 
This  was  the  thought  of  Moses;  for  though  men  of 
that  time  had  no  certain  faith  in  immortality,  yet 
who  will  not  believe  that   on  a  spirit  like  Moses 

171 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  truth  broke  in  waves  of  joy  when  the  hour  of 
parting  came? 

Much  more  on  us,  who  do  know  of  immortal  life, 
should  the  thought  arise  of  the  great  release  that 
death  is  to  those  we  love  and  honour.  They  have 
left  all  the  trouble  of  earth  behind.  As  they  died, 
there  opened  on  them  immortal  joy,  divine  repose, 
the  powers  of  the  enfranchised  soul.  They  thanked 
God  for  death.  Let  us  thank  God  that  they  are 
now  at  rest,  in  that  rest  which  is  not  sloth  but  the 
joy  of  swift  work,  which  sleeps,  like  a  spinning 
sphere,  for  very  swiftness. 

Lastly,  in  the  depths  of  the  silence  God  was 
present  with  His  servant,  more  vividly,  more  su- 
premely near  to  the  consciousness  of  Moses  than 
ever  He  had  been  in  life.  "And  the  Lord  buried 
Moses."  That  is  the  way  in  which  the  intensity 
of  God's  presence  in  the  dying  hour  of  Moses  is 
represented.  The  solitude  was  filled.  The  eyes 
of  Moses  were  closed  by  God. 

Indeed,  no  solitude  is  greater.  There  is  an  hour 
or  more  when  we  hover  on  the  verge  of  departure, 
when  we  go  and  come,  half  in,  half  outside,  the 
house  of  earthly  life,  which  is  quite  alone,  in  w^hich 
the  voices  of  earth  are  heard  like  far-off  sounds  over 
great  waters.  It  is  then  that  God  is  most  clear  to 
the  consciousness  while  yet  it  is  on  earth ;  that  in 

172 


THE   DEA  TH  OF  MOSES 

the  dimness  of  all  that  belongs  to  time,  His  pres- 
ence is  most  bright,  His  name.  His  nature  of  love 
most  manifested.  There  dawns  on  the  dying  an 
infinite  revelation.  Truth,  Love,  Beauty,  Joy,  these 
things  in  our  minds  are  but  names  in  comparison 
with  the  glory  of  them,  and  of  the  world  which  they 
create,  which  the  dying  man  beholds,  when  through 
all  his  spiritual  being  God  presses  now  like  fire, 
purifying,  kindling,  expanding,  making  all  things 
new.  What  earthly  regret  could  endure  when  that 
splendour  of  life  and  light  arose  upon  the  soul  of 
the  great  prophet.?  The  evening  fell;  the  night 
came  on;  the  landscape  of  Canaan  faded  wholly 
away;  the  solitude  was  unbroken  on  the  mountain- 
top;  but  the  arms  of  the  All-loving  were  under- 
neath His  servant,  and  the  ravishment  of  eternity 
opened  before  him.  Death  was  swallowed  up  in 
victory. 


173 


THE   SONG  OF   DEBORAH 


THE   SONG   OF   DEBORAH 

Judges  v 

^T  O  spiritual  interest  belongs  to  the  story  and 
^  ^  the  song  of  Deborah  and  the  victory  over 
Sisera,  but  a  great  number  of  other  interests  clus- 
ter round  them,  and  lead  us  back  into  more  roman- 
tic times  than  those  in  which  we  live.  And  it 
may  be  well  on  this  day,  when  we  shake  off  the 
burden  of  the  week,  to  pass  away  from  all  the  noise 
and  argument  that  fill  the  camps  of  politics  and 
science,  of  social  movements  and  theology,  and 
think  about  some  old  and  warlike  story  long  ago, 
full  of  humanity,  and  seen  through  the  soft  atmos- 
phere of  antiquity.  A  romantic  story  is  useful  to 
thought  and  feeling,  even  in  these  utilitarian  days. 
The  first  question  is  a  question  of  inspiration. 
Does  the  whole  of  this  account  and  song  represent 
the  very  mind  of  God.?  Those  who  maintain  the 
plenary  inspiration  of  the  Bible  have  always  been 
driven  into  a  difficult  corner  by  the  praise  lavished 

12  177 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

in  Deborah's  song  on  Jael,  who  slew  while  he  slept, 
and  while  he  trusted  in  her,  a  ruined  fugitive,  to 
whom  she  had  offered  hospitality.  And  this  they 
are  obliged  to  hold  to  be  approved  of  God,  for  the 
song  ends:  "So  may  all  Thine  enemies  perish,  O 
Jehovah !  "  God  is  thus  made  the  moral  sustainer 
of  a  fierce  and  vengeful  assassination,  wrought  in 
circumstances  v^hich  double  its  atrocity,  and  which 
would  have  been  abhorrent  to  the  soul  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

This  difficulty,  though  the  same  difficulty  occurs 
again  and  again  in  the  Old  Testament,  is  enough 
to  disperse  to  the  winds  the  theory  of  the  history  in 
the  Bible  being  fully  inspired  by  God  in  the  sense 
the  theologians  give  to  that  term.  We  believe 
nothing  of  the  kind.  We  read  this  history,  and 
judge  it  morally,  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  we 
read  and  judge  the  history  of  some  such  event  in 
the  history  of  Greece  or  Rome,  of  England  or 
France.  We  have  in  the  tale  the  human  senti- 
ments of  the  time  at  which  it  was  written  and  not 
the  views  or  the  words  of  God.  The  Song  of 
Deborah  is  no  more  than  the  passionate,  poetic 
utterance  of  a  patriot  who  belongs  to  the  wild, 
uncivilised,  and  unchristian  period  in  which  it  was 
composed,  and  all  that  it  says  about  God,  and  about 
the  fight  and  the  slaughter  of  Sisera,  is  to  be  judged 

178 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

in  accordance  with  the  morality  and  theology  of 
the  time  in  which  it  was  written.  The  morality 
of  the  time  I  leave  aside  at  present,  but  I  consider 
the  theology,  so  far  as  it  bears  on  the  story,  and  on 
the  question  of  inspiration. 

The  Jehovah  of  the  Hebrews,  at  this  period  in 
their  history,  was  very  much  like  the  gods  of  other 
nations  just  emerged  from  the  savage  state.  He 
was  their  own  God,  the  God  who  defended  their 
country  from  the  gods  of  other  nations  the  exist- 
ence of  whom  the  Hebrews  did  not  deny.  They 
thought  Him  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  gods,  and 
at  mortal  enmity  with  them.  Nothing  could  be 
dearer  to  Him  than  that  the  Israelites  should  mer- 
cilessly slay  those  who  worshipped  other  gods  who 
disputed  His  pre-eminence.  Such  slaughter  was 
the  best  sacrifice  they  could  make  to  Him.  They 
were  Jehovah's  enemies,  and  the  highest  goodness 
was  to  destroy  them.  The  treachery  even  which 
slew  one  of  His  foes,  was  raised  above  treachery 
into  a  righteous  act ;  and  we  may  now  imagine  how 
Deborah  could  cry  with  full  belief  in  the  justice  of 
her  cry:  "Blessed  above  women  be  Jael,  wife  of 
Heber  the  Kenite."  The  Jehovah,  then,  of  the 
Hebrews  at  this  time  was  conceived  of  as  a  jealous, 
fierce,  proud,  vengeful,  and  destroying  God,  delight- 
ing in  the  slaughter  of  His  enemies,  eager  Himself 

179 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

to  use  all  His  power  to  help  those  who  blotted  out 
His  foes  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Very  much  the  same  conception  —  the  belief  in 
the  existence  of  other  gods  belonging  to  other  coun- 
tries being  excluded  —  was  held  by  Mohammed  and 
all  his  followers.  Moreover,  the  violent  Puritans, 
the  violent  Catholics,  a  host  of  fanatical  sects, 
have  believed  in  this  cruel,  intolerant  God,  and 
modelled  their  actions  on  this  belief,  using  all  the 
Old  Testament  texts  which  assert  the  wrath  and 
fury  and  jealousy  of  Jehovah  as  the  charter  of  their 
iniquities.  Even  at  the  present  day  there  are 
numbers  who  believe  in  this  terrible  representation 
of  God  by  the  fierce  Israelites  of  this  savage  time, 
and  who,  basing  themselves  on  the  theory  that 
every  word  of  this  book  is  divine,  denounce  and 
persecute  those  who  differ  from  their  view  of  God. 
These  folk  are  one  of  the  curses  of  the  world. 
They  add  the  character  of  the  Jehovah  of  the  book 
of  Judges  and  other  Old  Testament  books,  to  the 
character  of  the  Father  revealed  by  Jesus  Christ. 
Thus  they  darken  and  blacken  Christianity;  and 
move  through  this  world  one  of  the  most  fruitful 
causes  of  doubt,  despair,  and  atheism.  It  is  high 
time  that  they  should  repent  in  dust  and  ashes  all 
the  evil  they  have  done. 

However,  to  return  to  the  matter  in  hand,  we 
i8o 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

must  remember  that  in  this  conception  of  their 
God,  the  Hebrews  were  not  at  all  worse  than  other 
people  in  the  same  condition  of  civilization.  In- 
deed, at  some  points  they  were  better;  better  in 
this  especially,  that  in  their  conception  there  were, 
other  elements  which  enabled  it  to  grow  into  the 
lofty  and  noble  idea  of  God  which  the  prophets 
afterwards  proclaimed.  But  the  character  of  their 
Jehovah  at  this  time  was  such  as  I  have  described; 
and  it  cuts  deep  into  the  theory  that  the  whole 
history  of  this  book  is  fully  inspired  by  the  God 
whom  Jesus  declared,  and  whom  He  called  the 
Father.  Those  who  hold  that  theory  are  obliged 
to  hold  that  the  God  whom  the  prophets  and  the 
later  editors  of  the  Pentateuch  declared  to  be  just 
and  merciful,  long-suffering,  and  of  great  kind- 
ness: and  still  more  whom  Jesus  declared  was  Love 
and  Pity  and  Forgiveness,  is  the  same  as  this  furi- 
ous, avenging,  jealous,  unforgiving,  exclusive,  and 
cruel  Jehovah,  whom  the  book  of  Judges  paints 
in  such  terrible  colours.  This  is  incredible,  and 
it  overthrows,  and  into  utter  ruin,  that  theory  of 
inspiration. 

But  then,  when  we  have  got  rid  of  that  theory, 
and  read  the  history,  as  we  read  any  other  early  his- 
tory, it  becomes  intensely  interesting.  We  pass 
on  straight  into  the  humanity  of   the  story.     We 

i8i 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

see  a  young  people,  and  all  their  young  ideas  about 
their  God  and  about  their  country;  we  see  their 
desperate  struggle  against  their  oppressors  to  estab- 
lish themselves  as  a  nation.  We  listen  to  their 
patriotic  passion  in  this  ancient  Song  of  Deborah, 
which  dates,  it  is  most  probable,  from  this  very 
time.  We  know  that  their  thoughts  and  feelings 
are  natural  to  their  wild  and  growing  condition. 
We  are  not  now  horrified  by  their  savagery,  or 
even  by  the  slaughter  of  Sisera.  Such  things 
belong  naturally  to  the  time,  and  are  full  of  inter- 
est. And  the  whole  of  the  battle,  and  the  joy  and 
rapture  of  their  deliverance,  and  their  valour,  and 
the  incidents  of  the  fight,  give  us  all  the  pleasure 
of  a  patriotic  tale.  And  a  vivid  and  brilliant  piece 
of  war  and  of  humanity  it  is ! 

On  the  whole,  it  is  historical.  Legend,  of  course, 
enters  into  it.  The  personages  are  shadowy  to  the 
glass  of  history,  but  this  Song  of  Deborah,  which 
is  one  of  the  oldest  bits  of  writing  in  the  Bible,  is 
enough  to  tell  us  that  the  main  outlines  of  the  tale 
are  true.  Jabin,  King  of  Hazor,  troubled  all  the 
Northern  tribes.  His  general  was  Sisera,  and  he 
had  many  hundred  scythed  chariots,  which  on  the 
great  plain  of  Jezreel,  to  which  his  power  extended, 
wrought  dreadful  havoc  on  the  Israelites,  charging 
at  full  speed  over  the  smooth  ground.      So  grim  was 

182 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

the  tyranny  that  none  dared  walk  the  roads.  But 
when  oppression  is  deepest  the  saviour  comes,  and 
the  bitterness  of  her  people  entered  into  the  heart 
of  Deborah.  She  was  then  the  prophetess  of  the 
tribes,  and  she  judged  Israel.  It  was  a  time  when 
women  played,  among  these  patriarchal  tribes,  a 
part  as  active  as  that  of  men;  both  in  politics  and 
unwritten  literature.  Not,  indeed,  till  Solomon 
introduced  the  life  of  the  harem  did  the  position  of 
women  degenerate  among  the  Israelites.  There  are 
plenty  of  analogies  to  this  among  the  Arabs,  both 
before  and  even  after  Islam,  and  a  whole  series  of 
epic  stories  cluster  round  the  Arabian  women  who 
were  the  chieftains  and  poets  of  their  tribes.  None 
of  them  has  a  greater  fame  than  Deborah,  who  to 
this  day  is  loved  by  the  artists  and  honoured  by  the 
oppressed  of  the  whole  Christian  world.  She  sat 
under  her  palm-tree  between  Ramah  and  Bethel  in 
the  tribal  land  of  Benjamin,  judged  the  causes,  and 
determined  the  religion  of  her  own  folk.  Her  wrath 
was  fierce  against  all  who  slipped  aside  from  the 
worship  of  Jehovah,  and  all  this  religious  passion 
mingled  with  her  patriotic  rage  at  the  misery  of  her 
people  to  drive  her  into  insurrection.  So,  in  the 
name  of  Jehovah,  she  sent  to  Barak,  the  Lightning 
of  Napthali,  to  come  with  all  who  would  follow,  to 
meet  her  at  Mount  Tabor.     And  half  the  tribes  arose 

183 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

as  one  man.  The  other  half  —  those  beyond  Jordan 
and  Dan  and  Asser  on  the  sea-board,  and  Judah 
and  Simeon  —  remained,  indifferent,  at  home. 

So  then  the  forces  faced  each  other.  Deborah 
saw  from  the  heights  of  Tabor  the  great  plain  of 
Esdraelon,  at  the  further  end  of  which,  in  Jezreel, 
lay  the  army  of  the  Canaanites,  in  their  own  terri- 
tory. Thirteen  miles  away  from  Tabor,  on  a  spur 
of  the  hills  at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  plains, 
was  Taanak,  the  outlying  fortress  of  the  Canaanites ; 
and  to  this  place  their  host,  with  all  its  war-chariots, 
came;  and  Deborah,  watching  from  the  lofty  rock, 
cried  out :  "  Arise,  Barak,  lead  captive  thy  captivity, 
son  of  Abinoam."  So  Barak,  with  his  10,000  men, 
and  all  on  foot,  went  out  to  meet  his  enemy.  While 
he  marched  over  those  thirteen  miles,  the  Canaanites 
advanced  from  Taanak  to  their  second  fortress  of 
Megiddo,  where  near  at  hand  a  net  work  of  streams, 
merging  into  four,  fell  down  among  the  olives  to  join 
the  Kishon  that  flowed  in  the  plain  below.  There 
at  the  waters  of  Megiddo  the  battle  joined  on  the 
level  ground.  It  seemed  that  the  scythed  cars  would 
make  short  work  with  the  Israelite  infantry.  But  as 
the  Hebrews  rushed  on,  uplifting  that  lion-like  roar 
with  which  Israel  terrified  its  foes,  a  mighty  storm 
of  hail  and  freezing  rain  drove  across  the  plain  right 
into  the  faces  of  the  Canaanites,  as  at  Cregi,  and 

184 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

troubled  the  slingers,  the  archers,  the  swordsmen, 
and  the  chariot-horses.  Into  the  broken  ranks 
dashed  the  wild  Israelites,  crying  that  Jehovah 
fought  for  them.  The  four  streams  swelled  into 
torrents  and  flooded  the  plain.  The  chariots  stuck 
fast  in  the  sodden  ground,  and  the  charioteers  were 
slain.  The  horse-hoofs  hammered  the  soil  in  flight. 
The  mighty  ones  who  now  rode  the  chariots  strove 
in  vain  to  flee  the  terror  of  battle.  Half  of  them 
struggled  downwards  to  the  river  through  the  marshy 
ground.  But  Kishon  now  was  in  furious  flood,  and 
this  part  of  the  Canaanite  army  was  engulfed  in 
its  clashing  torrent.  The  rest  fled  along  by  Endor, 
to  the  east,  and  perished  there,  and  became  as  the 
dung  of  the  earth  (Ps.  Ixxxiii.  lo).  It  was  a  glori- 
ous day,  long  remembered  in  Israel,  and  nobly  sung 
in  poetry:  — 

The  Kings  came  and  fought ; 

Then  fought  the  Kings  of  Canaan 

At  Taanak,  by  the  waters  of  Megiddo ! 

Not  heavy  was  the  silver  that  they  took ! 

From  the  height  of  heaven  the  stars  fought ; 
Out  of  their  courses,  they  fought  with  Sisera. 
Forward,  O  my  soul,  forward  hardily ! 

Then  the  hoofs  of  the  horses  beat  upon  the  ground, 
In  the  gallop,  in  the  flying  gallop  of  the  mighty  ones. 
The  torrent  of  Kishon  has  swept  them  away  — 
That  ancient  torrent,  the  torrent  of  Kishon. 
185 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

But  Sisera  fled  for  his  life,  and  came  to  the  Kenite, 
who  were  friends  of  Israel.  The  chief  was  away 
from  the  tent,  but  the  woman  took  him  in,  gave 
him  milk  and  when  he  slept  smote  one  of  the  tent- 
pegs  into  his  head,  and  nailed  him  to  the  ground; 
and  splendid  in  poetry  is  the  passage  in  which  this 
fierce  deed  is  recorded. 

At  her  feet  he  bows,  he  falls,  he  lies, 

At  her  feet  he  bows,  he  falls ; 

Where  he  has  bowed  himself,  there  he  falls  down  dead. 

And  no  sooner  was  this  murder  done  than  Barak 
came  by,  hot  in  pursuit,  and  saw  his  foe  dead,  with 
joy.  The  same  day  Deborah  met  him,  and  the 
prophetess  changed  into  the  poetess.  Like  a  Norse 
scald,  she  sang  the  rising,  the  battle,  and  the  death 
of  the  last  enemy ;  and  ended  in  a  passage  of  scorn 
and  mockery  rarely  equalled  in  the  literature  of  war. 
When  we  take  the  song  in  this  natural  fashion, 
and  are  not  forced  by  a  theory  of  inspiration  to 
reconcile  it  with  the  Christian  mercy  and  loving- 
kindness  ;  when  we  try  no  longer  to  accord  the  spirit 
of  Jesus  with  that  of  Deborah  and  Barak  and  Jael ; 
when  we  listen  to  it  as  the  impassioned  ode  of  a 
mother  in  Israel,  who  loved  her  people,  who  hated 
the  recreants  who  did  not  come  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord  against  the  mighty,  who  blessed  the  patriot 
bands,  who  cried  to  herself :  "  Arise,  arise,  Deborah, 

1 86 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

arise,  and  thunder  forth  the  song  of  battle;"  who 
watched  with  burning  eyes  the  handful  of  men  go 
down  from  Tabor  against  their  enemies;  when  we 
realise  the  passion  of  a  people  furious  with  oppres- 
sion which  spoke  from  her  lips ;  when  we  think  of 
these  things,  our  whole  heart  goes  with  her  song; 
we  understand  how  she  could  curse  Meroz,  how  she 
could  bless  the  slayer  of  Sisera,  how  she  could 
mock  the  misery  of  his  mother  and  her  maids.  It 
is  a  war-song,  a  patriot's  song;  and  it  is  human,  if 
it  be  not  Christian. 

Then  the  power  of  fine  literature  comes  upon  us  in 
it.  Of  all  the  Israelite  songs  it  is  the  most  poetical. 
Learnt  by  heart,  and  sung  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, it  became  the  model  of  the  Jewish  war-song. 
When  it  was  put  in  writing  it  suffered  changes;  the 
copyists  made  it  obscure  in  parts;  pious  phrases 
stole  in.  But  it  remains  but  little  spoiled,  clear  in 
its  originality,  well  ordered  in  its  sections,  extra- 
ordinarily vivid  in  its  sight  of  the  things  described. 
Few  things  are  finer  than  the  passage  where  she 
brings  all  the  classes  of  the  people,  in  rapid  sketch- 
ing, before  our  eyes,  from  the  heads  of  the  tribes  to 
the  shepherds  on  the  hills ;  from  the  rich  passing  by 
on  their  white  asses  to  the  village  patriarchs  sitting 
on  their  carpets,  and  the  travellers  on  foot,  and 
binds  them  all  up  with  the  conquests  of  Jehovah : 

187 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

My  heart  is  with  the  chiefs  of  Israel, 

Who  gave  their  lives  for  the  people.     Bless  the  Lord, 

O  ye  that  ride  on  white  asses, 

Ye  that  sit  on  the  carpets, 

Ye  that  walk  on  the  highways, 

Ye  that  whistle  to  your  flocks  beside  the  water-troughs, 

Sing  aloud ; 

Praise  the  great  conquests  of  Jehovah,     • 

The  conquests  of  his  chiefs  in  Israel, 

When  the  folk  ofjjehovah  went  down  unto  the  gates. 

Then  comes  the  personal  outburst :  — 

Awake  !  awake !  Deborah, 

Awake,  arise,  utter  the  song ; 

Up,  Barak, 

Lead  captive  captivity,  son  of  Abinoam. 

Could  anything  be  better?  There  is  not  a  feeble 
phrase  in  the  whole  song.  It  is  poured  forth  on  the 
very  evening  of  the  battle,  hot  with  the  excitement 
of  victory  and  the  joy  of  a  great  deliverance,  not 
wrought  with  reflection  or  with  literary  care  —  a  true 
popular  song,  ringing  with  the  timbrels  of  victory 
and  the  cymbals  of  scorn.  The  best  war-literature 
in  the  world  rises  out  of  these  early  times  before 
writing  was  known,  and  was  sung  by  the  bard  in 
the  evening  feast,  by  the  women  who  danced  before 
the  victors. 

As  to  the  deed  of  Jael,  no  theory  of  inspiration 
forces  me  to  try  and  excuse  it,  like  those  folk  who 

i88 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

invent  the  story  that  Sisera  had  offered  outrage  to 
Jael.  Her  deed  we  should  call  deliberate  and  trai- 
torous murder.  It  was  a  woman's  deed.  No  tribes- 
man of  the  time  would  have  violated  the  laws  of 
hospitality,  would  have  given  Sisera  bread  and  salt 
and  then  slain  him  in  sleep.  He  would  have  smitten 
Sisera  down  at  the  tent  door.  But  Jael  could  not 
do  that.  The  weakness  of  the  woman  drove  her 
to  treachery,  and  she  longed  to  fulfil  her  hatred. 
There  is  hatred  in  every  line  of  the  story;  fierce 
and  abiding  hatred. 

And  a  woman  praised  the  deed.  No  man  of  the 
time  could  have  praised  it.  No  Arab  of  to-day  would 
praise  it.  But  the  hour  in  which  it  was  praised  was 
that  of  the  wild  exultation  of  victory  and  deliver- 
ance ;  and  what  the  warriors  would  not  have  them- 
selves praised,  they  listened  to  with  hidden  pleasure. 
Deborah  heard  that  the  curse  of  her  land,  the  great 
brute  who  had  crushed  her  people,  was  foully  slain. 
She  would  have  been  more  than  mortal,  at  that  time 
of  history,  if  she  had  not  praised  the  doer  of  the 
deed.  The  murder  and  the  praise  of  it  were  both 
natural  enough.  We  call  it  treachery;  so  would 
the  men  of  the  time.  But  at  the  hands  of  Jael  the 
murder  was  natural,  and  on  the  lips  of  Deborah  the 
praise  of  it  was  natural. 

And  now  there  is  little  more  to  say.  We  can  get 
1S9 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

no  Christian  morality,  no  spiritual  lessons,  out  of 
this  history.  It  satisfies  the  warlike  element  in  us. 
It  satisfies  the  imagination,  but  it  does  not  satisfy 
the  spirit  of  the  love  of  Jesus.  His  life,  His  death, 
brought  us  into  another  world  than  that  which 
mocked  the  mother  of  the  slaughtered  and  blest  the 
slayer  of  the  fugitive.  His  blood  spoke  better 
things  than  the  blood  of  Abel,  which  cried  for  ven- 
geance; than  the  lips  of  Deborah,  that  rejoiced  in 
carnage.  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do"  is  a  whole  world  apart  from  "So 
perish  all  thine  enemies,  O  Jehovah !  "  It  is  well 
always  to  realise  this  change.  It  would  be  better 
if  we  always  lived  in  its  atmosphere.  But  the  sav- 
age, fierce,  and  bloody  elements  in  man  are  not 
dead,  though  they  are  decaying.  Not  a  hundred 
years  ago,  war  was  more  brutal  than  in  the  days  of 
Deborah.  Deeds  a  hundredfold  worse  than  Jael's 
deformed  the  taking  of  every  town.  Even  now  we 
hear,  only  too  often,  of  merciless  vengeances,  of  in- 
discriminate slaughter,  and  call  upon  the  priests  of 
God  the  Father  to  sing  Te  Deums  with  as  fierce  an 
insolence  of  ignorance  of  the  Christian  God  as 
Deborah,  in  her  ignorance  of  the  true  God,  called 
upon  Jehovah.  Thousands  of  years  have  rolled  by. 
A  world  of  mercy  has  been  proclaimed  by  Jesus. 
We  know  a  Father  in  heaven,  and  not  a  God  of 

190 


THE  SONG   OF  DEBORAH 

vengeance;  but  how  much  of  the  lesson  have  we 
learnt  ?  Something,  I  think,  but  not  the  tenth  part 
of  what  is  demanded  from  us. 

More  and  more  will  be  demanded.  The  deepest 
curse  of  all  wars,  even  of  just  war,  is  in  the  ven- 
geance which  exultation  in  victory,  along  with  heated 
blood,  takes  on  the  beaten  foe.  Such  vengeance  is 
not  only  felt  and  taken  by  men  with  arms  in  their 
hands.  In  our  social  wars,  class  wreaks  its  wrath 
after  victory  on  class;  and  the  temper  which  makes 
the  war  continue  is  fed  and  nourished  into  deeper 
wrath.  The  taking  of  vengeance  instead  of  the  giving 
of  forgiveness  is  the  reason  why  so  many  successful 
risings  against  oppression  have  failed  to  produce  a 
tenth  of  the  results  they  ought  to  have  produced,  and 
have  so  often  issued  in  a  new  oppression.  That  is 
the  great  lesson  of  the  close  of  the  French  Revolution. 
It  is  not  that  rising  against  oppression  is  wrong; 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  thousand  times  right.  But 
the  savage,  brutal  way  of  warring  against  oppression, 
the  brutal  revenge  taken  for  the  wrongs  of  the  past  — 
that  is  wrong,  and  it  turns  a  righteous  struggle  into 
unrighteousness,  and  so  into  failure.  Revolution  is 
often  right.  The  vengeance  of  revolution  is  wrong. 
The  rising  of  a  people  against  tyrannous  oppression 
has  the  sympathy  of  the  Old  Testament.  Israel,  in 
all  her  history,  stands  against  oppression ;  cries  in 

191 


THE   OLD   TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  name  of  its  God,  "  Let  my  people  go,  that  they 
may  serve  me;  "  makes  God  on  the  side  of  the  wars 
for  freedom.  The  Jews  have  led  the  van  of  liberty. 
Deborah's  patriotic  passion,  Moses'  deliverance  of 
his  nation,  the  cries  of  Isaiah  and  the  prophets  have 
shaken  the  hearts  of  tyrants  with  fear  and  uplifted 
the  hearts  of  the  afflicted  peoples  up  to  the  present 
day.  Still  we  quote  their  words,  still  we  write  them 
on  our  banners,  even  though  the  wars  we  wage  against 
oppression  be  not  waged  with  the  sword,  but  by  the 
votes  and  speech  of  the  people.  Of  such  wars  for 
civic  justice  God  the  Father  is  indeed  the  head. 
But  when  we  make  Him  the  head,  we  exclude  ven- 
geance from  our  war,  and  replace  it,  on  conquest, 
by  forgiveness.  The  whole  of  the  future  of  our  strife 
against  injustice,  the  whole  of  its  true  success,  the 
whole  of  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  workers,  the 
whole  of  the  better  civilisation  of  mankind,  lies 
hid  in  the  winning  of  that  temper  of  forgiveness,  in 
the  enthroning  in  our  minds  of  the  spirit  of  Jesus 
towards  the  injurers  of  humanity,  in  the  belief  that 
the  oppressor  is  also  a  brother,  in  the  worship,  not 
of  the  Jehovah  of  the  Old  Testament  histories,  but 
of  the  Father  of  mankind. 


192 


THE   CALL  OF  SAMUEL 


THE   CALL  OF  SAMUEL 

**Safmiel  did  not  yet  know  the  Lord,  nor  was  the  word  of 
the  Lord  yet  revealed  to  him.^* 

I  Samuel  iii.  7,  &c. 

'T^HIS  Story,  which  is  so  full  of  human  interest, 
-*■  may  have  some  historical  value,  but  what  it 
is  no  one  can  tell.  Nor  is  it  any  use  to  try  and  dis- 
cover it,  for  we  can  come  to  no  conclusion.  We  do 
not  even  know  the  date  at  which  it  was  edited  from 
the  old  stories  into  the  beginning  of  the  book  of 
Samuel,  and  therefore  we  can  draw  no  information 
from  it  as  to  the  way  in  which,  at  a  fixed  date,  men 
thought  about  God  and  human  life.  Its  interest 
then  is  not  the  interest  of  history,  considered  as  the 
record  of  events.  And  as  we  never  can  be  quite 
sure  of  the  absolute  correctness  of  the  record  of  any 
series  of  events  in  the  past ;  no,  not  even  when  ten 
years  instead  of  ten  hundred  have  elapsed,  the  histor- 
ical value  of  the  record  is  not  of  the  highest  human 
importance.     True  history  lies,  not  in  the  statement 

19s 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

of  events  of  which  we  cannot  be  certain  how  they 
occurred,  but  in  the  statement  of  how  men  at  any 
time  thought  and  felt.  The  record  of  the  thinking 
and  feeling  of  the  human  race  is  the  only  history 
worth  careful  considering,  for  of  the  truth  of  that 
record  we  can  be  certain.  The  rest  is  the  serious 
amusement  of  a  scientific  hour  by  which  we  gain 
materials  for  conversation  or  entertainment  or  the 
play  of  criticism  and  investigation  —  things  which 
are  pleasant,  but  scarcely  grave  or  even  useful  knowl- 
edge. Here,  for  example,  the  statement  of  what 
Eli  and  Samuel  did  is  of  no  importance,  for  we 
cannot  be  sure  of  its  truth,  but  the  thoughts  of  the 
writer  or  editor  of  the  story,  the  way  he  felt  as  he 
wrote,  are  certain.  We  know  what  his  temper  was 
towards  the  question  of  the  relation  between  God 
and  man.  We  know  his  moral  temper;  we  know 
how  he  felt  on  the  question  of  national  righteous- 
ness and  unrighteousness ;  we  know  what  he  thought 
concerning  child  life  and  its  relation  to  God;  we 
know  what  he  thought  concerning  the  business  and 
the  character  of  a  prophet,  of  a  seer.  This  is  cer- 
tain knowledge,  and  we  probably  know  through  him 
what  a  number  of  other  persons  —  at  the  indefinite 
time  he  wrote  —  were  also  thinking  and  feeling. 
Things  of  this  kind  are  the  real  certainties  of  his- 
tory, and   historians  generally  neglect  them,  pre- 

196 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

ferring,  with  the  curious  wrong-headedness  which 
belongs  to  so  much  of  human  science,  to  investi- 
gate that  of  which  they  never  can  have  any  clear 
knowledge. 

The  history  of  the  race  is  in  the  history  of  what 
men  thought  and  felt ;  and  it  is  written,  not  in  annals, 
not  in  chronicles,  not  in  State  papers,  not  in  the 
stores  of  the  Record  Offices  of  nations,  but  in  the 
literatures  of  the  tribes  and  peoples  of  mankind. 
There  is  truth  worth  knowing;  all  the  rest  is  plea- 
sant enough,  but  it  is  only  more  or  less  probable  in 
comparison  with  the  certainty  we  attain  when  we 
read  a  poem  or  a  story,  of  how  men  thought  and 
what  they  felt.  When  I  speak  then,  of  this  tale  to- 
day, I  speak  of  it  only  as  I  should  speak  of  the 
legend  of  King  Arthur  —  of  a  story,  that  is,  which 
tells  us  no  accurate  truth,  so  far  as  outward  facts 
are  concerned,  but  which  does  tell  us  with  extra- 
ordinary clearness,  so  far  as  it  goes,  what  the  writer 
and  his  contemporaries  of  the  same  temper  as  him- 
self thought  and  felt  concerning  religion,  human 
life,  men,  women,  and  children,  in  their  social, 
national,  and  domestic  relations.  Here  is  our  in- 
terest and  our  undying  interest.  All  other  interests 
are  transient,  this  is  for  ever  young.  The  mountains 
wear  away,  the  solid  surface  of  the  earth  is  in  per- 
petual change,  the  fertile  fields  become  a  desert,  the 

197 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

desert  a  fruitful  field.    Civilisation  after  civilisation 
perishes,  the  mighty  works  of  men  are  blown  to  dust, 
cities  that  were  the  marts  and  monarchs  of  great 
empires  are  ruins  where  the  bittern  cries :  all  things 
pass  and  fleet.     There  is  only  one  thing  which  at 
its  root  remains  the  same,  only  one  thing  which  is 
eternal.     It  is  the  human  heart  and  all  it  feels,  the 
human  will  and  all  it  desires.     And  this  book,  from 
which  in  this  place  we  preach,   has   its  mightiest 
value  and  its  abiding  interest,   not  in  the  events 
recorded,  which  are  subjects  of  criticism,  but  in  its 
being  the  story  of  human  life,  and  human  passion, 
and  human  thought  employed  on  the  subject  of  their 
relation  to  the  God  that  man  conceivCwS,  in  whom  he 
believes  or  disbelieves,  whom  he  loves  or  hates,  and 
whose  self-revelation  in  the  heart  he  receives  or  re- 
jects at  will.    What  did  this  writer  think  concerning 
these  matters  as  he  wrote  his  story.?     That  is  our 
question.     And  the  answer  comes  to  us  over  more 
than  two  thousand  years,  and  yet  it  is  not  apart  from 
us,  so  unchanged  in  its  great  relations  is  humanity. 
"  Samuel  did  not  yet  know  the  Lord,  nor  was  the 
word  of  the  Lord  yet  revealed  to  him."     This  is  the 
first  thing  the  writer  thinks,  and  he  describes  in  it 
the  state  of  youth,  innocent  as  yet,  even  unconscious 
of  God.     Yet,  in  the  tale,  Samuel  is  surrounded  with 
religious  influences.     He  is  dedicated  from  his  birth 

198 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

to  the  Lord,  brought  up  by  the  head-priest  at  Shiloh, 
and  he  passed  his  whole  time  in  the  public  service  of 
God.  But  God  was  nothing  to  him  but  a  name;  it 
was  Eli  he  obeyed,  not  God.  There  was  no  knowl- 
edge in  his  own  heart  of  sin,  and  therefore,  as  yet,  no 
consciousness  of  a  personal  Righteousness  beyond 
himself  who  had  to  do  with  him.  Nor  could  he  gain 
consciousness  of  God  and  His  goodness  through  the 
knowledge  of  evil  in  others.  He  was  protected. 
Shut  out  from  the  world  of  Israel  in  the  cool  and 
solemn  tents  of  the  Tabernacle,  he  could  not  know 
that  a  lawless  people  raged  and  sinned  beyond  its 
curtains.  Ignorant  of  God  and  ignorant  of  man,  it 
will  be  a  solemn  and  awful  hour  when  the  knowl- 
edge of  both  together  comes  upon  him. 

It  is  a  condition  in  which  the  greater  number  of 
comfortable  children  are  at  the  present  day.  Some 
thousands  of  years  have  wrought  no  change  in  this 
piece  of  early  human  life.  They  obey  their  parents, 
who  represent  God  to  them.  They  are  ignorant  of 
sin  within  them  and  without  them.  They  are  too 
happy  to  have,  as  yet,  great  curiosities  such  as  drive 
us  out  homeless  over  the  deserts  of  vain  thinking. 
Their  love  and  faith  are  as  yet  strong;  no  ingrati- 
tude has  tainted  the  one,  and  no  disappointment 
shocked  the  other.  Sheltered  within  the  fold  of 
home,  they  have  as  yet  no  aspiration  beyond  the 

199 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

heaven  that  lies  about  them  on  this  earth.  Ignorant 
of  sin,  they  are  unconscious  of  righteousness.  God 
is  with  them,  but  they  know  Him  not.  How  can  a 
child  conceive  the  immeasurable  and  awful  vision  of 
the  Eternal  Spirit  who  speaks  in  the  silence }  It 
must  first  grasp  and  realise  the  natural.  I  do  not 
say  children  are  not  happy  in  the  sense  of  an  invisi- 
ble care,  that  they  have  not  impressions  which  are 
too  great  for  utterance,  vague  feelings  of  the  infinite 
when  nature  unfolds  to  them  at  night  her  solemn 
breast,  and  they  are  drawn  to  feed  at  it,  they  know 
not  why;  impressions  which  tell  them  a  new  life  of 
thought  and  passion  is  at  hand,  with  which  they  alone 
will  have  to  do,  and  which  are  the  first  thrillings  of 
that  personal  life  with  God  which  will  be  theirs  here- 
after—  but  they  do  not  understand  what  these  vague 
impressions  mean.  They  cannot  feel  (and  it  is  false 
education  to  try  and  make  them  feel)  what  the 
Psalmist  felt  when  he  said :  *'  If  I  ascend  up  into 
heaven,  Thou  art  there;  if  I  go  down  to  hell.  Thou 
are  there  also. "  In  truth,  such  a  sense  of  a  solemn 
presence  haunting  life  does  not  come  till  sin  and 
sorrow  in  our  own  heart  or  in  other  men  around  us, 
have  opened  the  doors  of  a  new  and  dreadful  world, 
and  innocency  has  gone  for  ever. 

We  are  bound  not  to  antedate  the  spiritual  life  of 
our  children,  lest  we  make  them  false.     But  all  the 

200 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

more  we  must  remember  that  the  ideas  they  will 
hereafter  have  of  God  will  be  dependent  on  what  we 
are  to  them.  They  will  think  God  loving,  just,  and 
true  in  proportion  as  we  are  loving,  true,  and  just. 
If  their  home  be  selfish,  mean,  a  place  of  contention, 
of  unhappiness,  they  will  only  believe,  when  they 
become  men  and  women,  in  hell  and  in  a  God  who 
makes  it.  This  is  the  dread  responsibility  of  a 
parent's  life.  For  the  time  will  come  when  the 
child  will  for  himself,  like  Samuel,  hear  the  voice 
of  God;    and  how  he  hears  it  will  depend  on  us. 

Ignorant  of  God  in  this  deep  and  grave  fashion, 
Samuel  was  of  course  ignorant  also  of  humanity. 
Before  he  should  become  a  prophet,  he  had  also  to 
learn  the  sad  and  serious  knowledge  of  humanity. 
The  first  condition  of  religious  inspiration  is  holi- 
ness of  life,  which  has  passed  through  sin  and  con- 
quered goodness,  and  which  sees  into  God's  doings 
with  men,  because  it  knows  the  laws  on  which  abso- 
lute righteousness  works.  But  the  second  condi- 
tion is  knowledge  of  the  heart  of  man,  knowledge 
of  it  through  sympathy  and  love.  The  heart  of  the 
prophet  must  beat  in  accordance  with  the  general 
heart  of  man,  must  feel,  as  if  they  were  his  own,  the 
wants,  the  passions,  the  unformed  yearnings  and 
desires  of  his  time.  He  must  be  able  to  receive  the 
multitudinous  impulses  which  come  from  without. 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

to  harmonise  and  co-ordinate  them,  to  generalise 
them  into  a  few  principles,  to  embody  them  in  a 
few  words,  to  make  these  words  war-cries,  and  to 
say:  "This  is  what  you  mean,  write  it  on  your 
banners,  fight  and  work  for  it  till  the  death." 

None  of  this  a  boy  can  know  or  feel,  though  vis- 
ions of  it  may  float  before  him,  if  he  have  genius. 
Only  when  he  leaves  the  guarded  tabernacle,  and, 
loving  men,  goes  in  and  out  among  them,  do  the 
vast  problems  press  upon  his  spirit,  does  he  feel  the 
passion  of  a  saviour,  or  hear  in  his  heart  the  great 
cry  of  troubled  men  and  women :  "  Come  and  help 
us."  Samuel  was  to  be  such  a  man,  but  the  word  of 
the  Lord  was  not  revealed  to  him  as  yet,  that  word 
which  bids  a  man  "Arise,  and  love  men,  go  forth 
and  tell  them  that  which  will  redeem  them." 

And  this  ignorant  state  is  not  the  state  of  chil- 
dren only.  There  are  many  who,  while  men  and 
women,  are  living  in  this  ignorance,  and  are  no  bet- 
ter than  infants.  They  never  think  of  their  own 
existence,  nor  of  God's;  never  question  why  they 
were  born,  nor  what  they  are,  nor  whither  they  are 
going.  They  never  see  anything  to  astonish  their 
intellect  or  shock  their  heart  in  the  great  world,  in 
the  vast  sorrows,  struggles,  passions,  and  joys  of  the 
human  race.  They  never  live  in  the  invisible,  never 
feel  its  call,  never  look  beyond  the  hour  and  the 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

impulse  of  the  work  of  the  hour.  God  is  as  much 
a  dream  to  them  as  humanity.  Fleeting  feelings, 
fleeting  thoughts,  fleeting  pleasures,  sorrows  which 
die  because  they  disturb  their  amusement,  loves 
which  fail  because  they  demand  too  much  of  them 
—  engage  them,  impel  them,  and  leave  them.  They 
are  sea-birds  which  skim  the  surface  of  life's  sea, 
and  never  dive  to  penetrate  the  depths  of  it:  the 
word  of  the  Lord  which  bids  them  help  their  fellows 
never  revealed  to  them ;  equally  unable  to  feel  the 
imperative  of  God,  or  to  understand  the  destinies 
of  man  —  a  state  of  protracted  childhood. 

It  is  a  pitiable  condition.  When  we  become 
men  and  women  we  must  put  away  childish  things. 
We  ought  to  know  ourselves,  to  know  God,  and  to 
know  our  brother  men ;  and  knowing  ourselves,  to 
become  humble;  and  knowing  God,  to  worship  Him 
by  growing  like  Him  in  holiness;  and  knowing  our 
brothers,  to  love  them  and  devote  our  life  to  them. 
If  we  are  not  awakened  yet,  it  is  time  we  were; 
time  that  we  heard  within  us  the  great  cry  that 
awakened  the  universe  into  form :  "  Let  there  be 
light;"  time  that  we  heard  that  personal  cry: 
"Samuel,   Samuel." 

It  is  well  for  those  who  hear  and  receive  it  early, 
when  first  they  stand  on  the  threshold  of  the  great 
Temple  of  life  and  look  into  its  vastness;  who  hear 

203 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

and  recognise  in  it  the  voice  of  God  and  the  voice 
of  humanity,  and  dedicate  themselves  to  the  service 
of  both  —  a  service  which  is  not  two,  as  some  think, 
but  always  one.  In  what  way  that  great  event  hap- 
pens to  the  young  differs  as  characters  differ,  but 
how  it  happened  in  the  idea  of  the  writer  who  tells 
this  story,  lies  before  you;  and  fairly  and  nobly  it 
is  conceived  in  that  poetic  form  in  which  universal 
truth  is  enshrined  most  clearly.  The  Lord  called 
Samuel  by  name.  A  voice  broke  on  the  silence  of 
night.  Twice  Samuel  mistook  it  for  Eli's  voice, 
twice  he  was  undeceived.  At  last  he  knew  it  for 
what  it  was  —  the  voice  of  God. 

This  is  the  way  the  spiritual  truth  is  shaped  for 
us.  The  call  came  when  the  Tabernacle  was  hushed, 
when  the  lamp  went  out,  and  Samuel  was  laid  down 
to  sleep.  In  solitude  and  silence,  when  the  voices 
of  the  day's  disturbance  are  at  rest,  God  is  heard 
speaking  in  the  heart.  So  it  has  ever  been.  The 
soul  opens  its  doors  to  listen  when  the  sounds  which 
attack  the  senses  are  not  heard.  The  Invisible  One 
is  felt  in  our  consciousness  in  the  lonely  places  of 
the  earth.  There  are  strange  whispers  which  beset 
us  when  the  heart  is  wearied  of  the  world,  w^hen 
work  seems  vanity,  when  pleasure  is  removed,  when 
life  passes  before  us  like  a  dream.  We  seem  to 
know  then  what  we  really  are,  and  wait  for  a  revela- 

204 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

tion.  Then  the  everlasting  Father  calls  Hi^  son,  and 
calls  him  by  his  name :  "  Samuel,  Samuel,  know  me ; 
remember  me,  love  me.  I  stretch  out  my  hands  to 
thee.  I  am  thy  father,  hear  my  voice;  come,  my 
child,  learn  of  me  righteousness  and  love,  duty  and 
the  power  of  redeeming. "  It  is  a  personal  cry.  He 
who  calls,  we  know  then,  is  akin  to  us,  a  living  One 
who  lives  for  us,  with  love  to  answer  our  love. 

Have  we  never  heard  Him  speak  thus  to  us,  never 
heard  in  the  ear  of  the  spirit  His  solemn  and  noble 
word,  never  known  that  ineffable  passion  of  longing 
for  more  and  more  of  Him  who  is  our  only  true  rest, 
which  made  the  poet  cry :  "  As  the  hart  panteth  after 
the  water  brooks,  so  longeth  my  soul  after  Thee,  O 
God?"  If  never,  why  then  we  have  not  as  yet 
known  God  as  one  with  whom  we  stood  alone,  in- 
dividually linked  to  Him  for  ever,  in  obedience 
and  in  love.  And  not  to  know  God  in  this  way  is 
not  to  be  a  conscious  servant  of  His,  is  to  have  no 
support,  no  power  beyond  humanity,  is  not  to  be 
certain  of  endless  progress,  is  not  to  be  master  of 
oneself  and  of  the  world  to  come. 

But  if  we  have  heard  Him  speak  in  this  way,  how 
have  we  received  His  word?  With  joy  perhaps  at 
first,  with  hope,  excitement,  eager  faith?  Yes,  per- 
haps so.  But  the  question  for  us  all  is :  How  long 
has  the  eagerness  lasted;  has  the  faith  grown  cold; 

205 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

have  the  ideals  become  worn  out  by  length  of  time; 
has  the  hope  been  chilled  by  trial ;  has  the  perse- 
verance grown  craven;  have  we,  who  placed  our- 
selves in  the  front  of  the  battle,  fied  from  it  to  take 
our  pleasure,  or  deserted  to  the  army  of  selfish 
wealth  and  engrossing  sin  and  the  transient  world  ? 
Alas,  this  is  an  experience  we  all  have  known,  save 
a  happy  few.  But  in  the  silences  of  life  we  are 
troubled  by  echoes  of  the  ancient  cry;  nor  do  we 
ever  quite  forget  what  we  have  once  listened  to  in 
youth,  what  once  we  have  thrilled  to  hear.  And  at 
least,  if  we  have  not  obeyed,  or  fallen  from  obedi- 
ence, God  does  not  forget.  If  we  have  no  persever- 
ance. He  has.  Our  leaving  of  Him,  our  neglect 
of  righteousness,  love  and  justice,  of  our  duties  to 
men ;  our  selfish,  vain,  or  idle  life,  bring  with  them 
their  necessary  fruits.  We  must  eat  them,  and  we 
are  poisoned  by  them.  Bitterness,  loneliness,  sor- 
row, misery  of  heart,  are  ours  by  law.  And  then 
He  speaks  again :  "  Come  unto  me,  weary  and  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  Take  my  yoke 
upon  you,  and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly 
in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find  rest  to  your  soul."  So 
we  hear  Him  in  the  words  of  Jesus. 

And,  tired  with  long  ploughing  under  the  yoke  of 
our  own  will,  which  weighed  heavier  and  heavier  as 
the  years  went  by;  tired  out  by  sowing  and  never 

206 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

reaping;  worn  with  the  trouble  of  loving  ourselves 
only,  and  with  the  loneliness  it  brings;  sick  at  last 
of  the  lie  of  accusing  others  as  the  cause  of  our 
troubles,  when  their  cause  is  in  ourself ;  contrite  and 
broken-hearted,  but  desiring  to  love  God  and  to  take 
all  the  consequences  of  loving  Him;  eager  to  be 
loved  by  Him,  for  we  are  too  much  alone;  longing 
to  try  righteousness  and  to  rest  in  its  peace,  to  for- 
give others  and  to  forgive  ourselves  —  we  answer, 
at  last,  in  the  darkness  of  life's  tabernacle :  "  Speak 
Lord,  for  Thy  servant  heareth." 


207 


II 


THE   CALL  OF   SAMUEL 

"  Sa?nuel  did  not  yet  know  the  Lord,  nor  was  the  word  of 
the  Lord  yet  revealed  to  him.^' 

I  Samuel  iii.  10-18. 

A  S  the  story  of  the  call  of  Samuel  goes  on,  it 
'^^-  becomes  even  more  vividly  realised  by  the 
writer,  and  more  full  of  natural  truth,  that  is,  of 
truth  to  human  nature.  When  Samuel  went  to  lie 
down  again  in  the  silence,  and  listened  for  the  voice, 
it  came  once  more,  and  Samuel  answered  it  at  last : 
"Speak,  for  Thy  servant  heareth. "  And  the  voice 
told  him  of  sin  and  death  and  judgment ;  and  he  lay 
until  the  morning,  for  he  could  not  sleep  with  the  new 
rush  of  dreadful  knowledge  in  his  heart,  and  with  the 
sentence  of  stern  justice  loitering  in  his  ears.  All 
the  old  sanctities  of  childhood  were  despoiled;  all 
the  old  reverences  of  his  boyhood  were  invaded  and 
stript  of  their  glory.  Eli,  his  teacher,  whom  he 
loved,  was  condemned  for  his  weakness  of  character. 
He  knew  that  the  people  of  Jehovah,  whom  he  had 
14  209 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

conceived  as  pure,  were  lawless  and  defiled.  Within 
the  very  precincts  of  the  Tabernacle,  where  he  had 
thought  that  evil  could  not  enter,  lust  and  greed  ran 
riot.  With  the  knowledge  of  all  this  suddenly  in 
his  heart,  the  child  lay  restless  all  the  night. 

We  understand  all  that  the  story  contains,  when 
we  take  it,  not  as  a  piece  of  history,  but  as  a  poetic 
representation  of  the  way  in  which  the  knowledge  of 
the  evil  of  the  world  comes  for  the  first  time  on  child- 
hood or  youth.  I  do  not  say  that  the  writer  meant 
it  to  be  symbolic.  On  the  contrary,  he  probably 
thought  he  was  writing  history.  But  being  a  poet 
and  creator,  he  unconsciously  shaped  the  story  in 
such  a  fashion  that  it  expresses  things  which  are 
true  at  all  times  of  the  greater  number  of  young 
men  and  women.  When  on  a  youth  who  has  been 
sheltered  at  home  through  childhood,  the  voice  of 
the  infinite  world  without  him  first  breaks,  he  does 
not  believe  in  its  reality.  He  cannot  understand 
that  it  is  a  true  voice  from  without  that  he  hears. 
Again  and  again  he  mistakes  it  for  the  voice  of  Eli 
for  the  voice  of  his  customary  life.  At  last  he  is 
convinced  of  its  truth,  and  then  he  is  all  one  listen- 
ing ear.  The  outward  world  and  all  it  has  to  say 
flows  in  upon  him  like  a  tide,  and  on  the  tide  comes 
the  knowledge  of  sin  and  sorrow,  pain  and  judg- 
ment.    The  paradise  of  pure  youth  is  broken  into, 

2IO 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

its  sun  darkened,  its  flowers  withered.  It  is  a 
dreadful  revelation,  and  brings  with  it  a  sleepless- 
ness of  soul,  an  incessant  questioning  in  the  intel- 
lect. Night  is  around  the  youth,  and  he  lies  in 
it  absorbed  in  thought,  often  absorbed  in  sorrow. 
"Speak,"  he  cries,  to  that  which  he  does  not  rec- 
ognise for  whom  He  is,  "speak,  for  Thy  servant 
heareth."  It  is  the  first  disillusion,  and  though 
the  after  disillusions  of  life  are  bitterer,  and  take 
longer  to  recover  from,  because  they  fall  upon  a 
lonelier  heart  and  a  stronger  soul,  this  also  has  its 
own  peculiar  note  of  pain,  —  a  note  which  is  never 
repeated,  and  therefore  is  keenly  remembered. 

How  did  Samuel  receive  the  knowledge }  Or  how 
did  this  old  writer  conceive  that  he  received  it }  He 
took  it  quietly  ;  he  lay  still ;  he  rose  in  the  morning 
to  do  the  ordinary  business  of  life,  to  open  the  doors 
of  the  Tabernacle.  He  told  all  he  knew  with  simpli- 
city to  Eli  when  he  was  questioned,  but  not  till  then. 
He  was  awed  and  solemnised,  but  he  kept  his  child- 
like simplicity.  And  though  all  he  said  to  Eli  was 
blame  of  Eli,  he  told  the  absolute  truth.  And  free 
from  pride  or  vanity,  free  from  diseased  curiosity 
about  evil,  free  from  hurried  impetuosity,  he  went  on 
doing  his  daily  work,  though  all  Israel,  we  are  told, 
knew  that  he  was  called  to  be  a  prophet  of  the  Lord. 

How  do  we  receive  our  first  knowledge  of  evil } 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

For  the  most  part,  in  this  society  of  ours,  with  but 
little  awe.  With  no  sense  or  but  a  transitory  sense 
of  the  sternness  of  moral  law,  and  the  certainty  of 
moral  judgments.  We  are  too  light;  too  carelessly 
brought  up.  We  ought  to  be  gay  and  happy,  but  we 
ought  not  to  be  incapable  of  feeling  the  solemnity  of 
life  when  it  opens  before  us.  Nay  more,  it  is  not 
only  this  negative  position  which  we  occupy,  we 
receive  this  knowledge  often  with  a  morbid  curiosity 
of  evil.  Desirous  of  knowing  it,  we  run  into  its 
embrace.  Instead  of  Samuel's  serious  quiet,  we  are 
filled  with  excitement  about  unknown  things  which 
we  are  told  are  wrong.  Excitement  in  itself  is  right 
and  natural  in  youth ;  but  morbid  curiosity  of  the 
young  concerning  evil  is  the  mark  of  a  decaying 
society,  and  it  is  one  of  the  worst  symptoms  of  our 
present  society,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  in 
the  scale.  There  are  those  who  call  it  natural  to 
youth ;  but  its  saddest  result  proves  its  unnatural- 
ness.  It  destroys  the  youth  of  those  who  indulge 
it,  and  that  mode  of  living  and  thinking  cannot  be 
natural  to  youth  which  brings  on  youth,  before  its 
time,  decay  and  death.  The  number  of  aged  young 
men  and  women  whom  we  meet  now,  or  who  pro- 
fess that  they  are  old,  and  boast  of  it,  which  indeed 
is  the  same  thing  as  being  old,  would  be  amusing  if 
it  were  not  so  serious  a  symptom  of  national  disease. 


THE    CALL    OF  SAMUEL 

And,  after  all,  when  they  have  satisfied  their  curi- 
osity, and  lost  their  aspiration,  they  know  nothing 
at  all  of  life.      For  the  knowledge  of   evil  is  not 
knowledge  of   human  nature.      It  is  knowledge  of 
its  diseases,  not  of  its  health ;  and  that  is  as  much 
true  knowledge  of  human  nature  as  our  knowledge 
of  our  friend  would  be  true  knowledge  of  his  char- 
acter if  we  judged  him  from  what  we  saw  of  him 
when  he  was  suffering  from  fever,  or  dying  of  con- 
sumption.    The  true  knowledge  of  human  nature  is 
the  knowledge  of  it  when  its  body  is  healthy,  its 
mind  sound,  its  soul  aspiring,  and  its  spirit  full  of 
love.     That  is  a  knowledge  of  things  as  they  are 
rightly ;  and  when  we  know  them  in  that  way,  we 
can  know  the  diseases  of  human  nature  far  better 
than  the  man  who  only  knows  it  in  disease.     That 
is  a  good,  honest,   scientific  statement,  and  every 
physician  will  support  the  analogy  to  it  in  his  own 
practice.      On  one  side  is  the  eager  pursuit  of  this 
morbid  curiosity,  when  evil  is  first  revealed  to  youth, 
a  useful  or  a  wise  thing.     ''  I  know  life, "  these  poor 
creatures  say  in  their  vanity.     "  Tush,  man  !  "  is  the 
proper  answer,  "  you  know  disease,  decay,  and  death, 
and  you  are  no  better  than  a  fool  for  knowing  them 

so  well." 

And,  now,  what  makes  the   difference  between 
this  reception  of  the  knowledge  of  evil,  and  that  of 

213 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Samuel  ?  It  was  that  Samuel  had  something  even 
then  of  the  prophet's  nature  in  him.  He  saw,  or, 
being  a  child,  he  felt  unconsciously  the  great  moral 
laws  on  which  the  universe  is  worked.  Behind  the 
sin  and  sorrow  and  changes  of  this  mortal  life,  he 
felt  that  which  was  quiet,  unshaken,  eternal,  which 
could  not  be  changed.  When  he  touched  evil,  he 
knew  it  was  doomed  to  overthrow.  When  he  saw 
decay,  he  was  certain  of  judgment  coming  on  it. 
When  he  was  conscious  of  moral  weakness,  as  in 
Eli,  he  felt  that  its  fruit  would  be  overthrow.  When 
he  heard  of  the  reckless  lawlessness  of  the  people,  he 
beheld  the  invisible  results.  Right  and  wrong  were 
clearly  set  over,  one  against  another,  in  his  mind, 
and  the  right  seemed  beautiful  and  worthy  of  aspira- 
tion, and  the  evil  ugly  and  not  worth  his  curiosity. 
Having  then  this  sense  of  clear  law  and  its  sanctions, 
he  was  naturally  quiet.  He  could  not  give  help  to 
Eli.  Eli  had  to  eat  the  fruits  of  what  he  had  done. 
He  could  love  him,  sympathise  with  him,  help  him 
to  bear  trouble ;  but  he  could  not  take  the  trouble 
away.  That  must  come.  And  for  himself,  all  he 
had  to  do  was  to  do  his  nearest  duty,  and  by-and- 
bye  to  tell  others  what  moral  law  was ;  what  inevit- 
ably followed  on  good,  and  inevitably  followed  on 
evil.  Naturally,  such  a  mind  was  solemnised  and 
still.     Yet  there  was  nothing  in  the  awe  which 

214 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

should  prevent  the  brightness,  the  keen  life,  the 
ardour  of  youth  having  full  swing.  On  the  contrary, 
the  ruling  of  action  within  the  limits  of  moral  Tight- 
ness enabled  him,  and  will  enable  us,  within  these 
limits,  to  have  joy,  excitement,  and  freedom.  The 
limits  increase  the  pleasure. 

"  We  have  not  the  prophet's  nature, "  you  may  say. 
No,  perhaps  not,  to  that  degree.  But  what  I  do  say 
is  this:  "It  is  a  parent's  fault  if  the  child,  girl  or 
boy,  has  not,  when  it  first  gains  the  knowledge  of 
evil,  that  sense  of  the  certainty  and  irrevocableness 
of  the  moral  laws  of  the  universe  with  which  the 
prophet  is  by  nature  gifted.  Those  who  have  it  not 
by  nature,  ought  to  have  been  made  acquainted  with 
it  by  education.  No  child,  from  its  earliest  years, 
should  be  left  without  this  conception.  It  ought  to 
be  inwoven  into  every  fibre  of  his  being.  "  What 
you  sow,"  we  should  say  to  our  children,  "that  you 
inevitably  reap.  If  you  sow  love,  you  reap  love; 
if  you  sow  good,  its  fruit  is  goodness.  If  you  sow 
selfishness  you  will  reap  selfishness.  If  you  sow 
hatred,  impurity,  unpitifulness,  hatred  and  unpiti- 
fulness  and  impurity  you  will  reap.  If  you  do 
good,  your  society  and  your  nation  will  be  stronger, 
nobler,  more  aspiring.  If  you  do  evil,  your  family, 
society,  and  nation  will  be  weaker,  meaner,  and 
more  ready  to  decay."     These  are  things  easy  to 

215 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

remember,  easy  to  illustrate.  They  are  absolute 
certainties,  and  the  settled  conviction  of  them  will 
make  the  first  revelation  of  evil  a  trial  to  the  young, 
not  a  temptation ;  an  occasion  of  rising  and  not  of 
falling;  a  solemn,  not  a  frivolous  hour;  a  time  when 
they  will  gird  themselves  with  joy  to  battle  with 
wrong;  and  not  a  time  when  they  will,  unarmed,  and 
most  like  a  follower  of  Bacchus  and  not  of  Christ, 
run  headlong  into  those  snares  of  evil  where  life  is 
defeated,  and  power  rendered  unavailing. 

But  this  —  to  know  evil  as  evil,  and  to  recognise 
that  it  is  against  the  laws  of  the  universe;  that  it  is 
death  and  not  life;  that  we  are  to  be  its  enemy  and 
not  its  friend  —  this  is  not  the  whole  of  the  prophet's 
nature.  There  is  another  side  to  it.  It  is  to  see  good 
as  clearly  as  evil ;  nay  more,  to  see  the  good  first, 
and  to  see  the  evil  by  means  of  the  good ;  to  under- 
stand falsehood  through  knowledge  of  truth,  selfish- 
ness through  the  love  of  love,  injustice  through  the 
practice  of  justice.  That  is  the  right  order,  for  seen 
in  that  order,  we  do  not  despair  of  the  world.  If 
we  only  see  evil,  or  see  it  chiefly,  we  see  nothing  but 
death  and  judgment  for  the  world;  we  have  no  hope, 
no  faith  for  the  human  race ;  and  our  prophecy,  that 
is  our  telling  of  truth,  terrifies  the  world  through 
menace,  and  does  but  little  good.  This  was  the 
fault  of  John  the  Baptist.     It  seems  to  have  been  the 

216 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

fault  of  the  Samuel  of  this  story.  He  had  little 
hope  of  Israel  in  after  days.  He  was  in  so  much 
despair  when  he  grew  old,  that  he  neglected  or 
alienated  his  own  sons  as  Eli  had  done.  He  had  no 
vision  of  David,  nor  of  the  resurrection  of  his  people ; 
no  forward  look,  no  ideal  dreams.  He  died  sorrowful, 
only  half  a  prophet;  ending  much  as  Eli  ended; 
almost  in  a  wearied  acquiescence  in  judgment ;  a 
fatalist  in  his  old  age.  Do  you  remember  that  last 
touch  in  the  story  concerning  Eli.'*  Samuel  told 
Eli  all  —  his  own  ruin,  the  ruin  of  his  sons,  the 
overthrow  of  his  people.  The  old  man  heard  him  to 
the  end,  and  then  —  and  how  vivid  is  the  truth  to 
human  nature  in  that  easy  character  which  had  let 
things  slide  —  he  folded  his  hands  and  acquiesced. 
"It  is  the  Lord,  let  Him  do  what  seemeth  Him 
good."  He  was  too  tired  to  complain,  too  old  even 
to  be  sorry.  It  was  just;  but  he  could  not  help  it. 
Only  when  the  misery  came  he  broke  his  heart  and 
died.  He  too  saw  no  salvation,  had  no  vision  of  a 
happier  time.  He  saw  the  judgment,  but  presaged 
no  resurrection.  This  is  the  weak  side  of  the 
prophet-nature,  and  there  are  many  examples  of  it 
in  history. 

It  is  well  now  to  put  the  other  side,  the  side  of 
the  prophet-nature  which,  seeing  good  as  clearly 
as  evil,  does  not  despair  of  the  world  of  men,  but 

217 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

goes  forth  in  hope  to  redeem  it.  And  we  shall  see 
that  side  if  we  look  at  the  story  of  the  Day  of  Pen- 
tecost. Around  the  assembly  of  the  faithful  after 
the  death  of  Jesus,  lay  a  decaying  world.  Greece 
had  perished ;  the  decadence  of  Rome  had  begun  in 
luxury;  the  Jewish  people  had  lost  religion  in  self- 
righteousness  and  party  spirit.  Art  was  mere  imi- 
tation and  literature  was  passing  into  satire.  If 
those  who  met  at  Jerusalem  did  not  feel  all  these 
losses,  they  had  enough  of  the  prophet's  sense  to 
feel  the  passing  away  of  righteousness,  and  of  deep 
feeling  which  is  life,  in  the  world;  yet  they  were 
not  depressed. 

Moreover,  they  had  seen  with  their  own  eyes  the 
triumph  of  evil  over  goodness.  Rome  and  Judea 
had  slain  the  Just  One.  Hatred  had,  it  seemed,  con- 
quered love,  and  injustice  righteousness.  Samuel 
would  have  wailed,  Eli  would  have  acquiesced, 
John  the  Baptist  would  have  thundered  his  denun- 
ciation. "The  wicked  world  is  doomed,  our 
people  lost,  there  is  nothing  left  but  to  call  down 
fire  from  heaven  on  man.  There  is  only  lamen- 
tation left  for  the  good  and  hopelessness  for  the 
weak." 

Was  this  their  spirit,  this  their  temper.?  No, 
indeed.  They  had  an  audacious  joy  and  power  in 
them  of  faith  and  love  and  hope.     They  denounced 

218 


THE   CALL   OF  SAMUEL 

the  evil,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  to  bid  men  repent  of 
it,  and  be  saved  from  it.  Evil  and  death  were 
doomed;  their  Master  had  overcome  both.  He 
was  risen,  and  His  spirit  of  life  and  salvation 
was  now  in  the  world.  Therefore,  though  they 
saw  the  evil,  they  saw  far  more  clearly  the  com- 
ing and  the  conquering  good.  They  saw  a  world 
which  they  thought  dead,  but  they  foretold  a 
resurrection.  They  saw  the  oppressed,  but  they 
prophesied  their  deliverance.  They  saw  the  broken- 
hearted, but  they  said  a  world  of  joy  was  theirs. 
They  saw  the  lost,  but  they  said  that  they  had  a 
Saviour. 

This  was  the  vision  that  rescued  them  from  the 
prophet's  lamentation  and  despair.  It  did  more;  it 
lifted  them  into  the  prophet's  ecstasy.  They  broke 
into  inarticulate  cries  of  joy,  into  the  wild  inspira- 
tion of  youthful  delight.  Words  fail  the  writer  of 
the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  to  express  all  that  tradition 
told  him  that  they  felt.  The  house  seemed  to  shake 
withthe  thrilling  of  their  spirits.  Flickering  tongues 
as  of  fire  seemed  to  settle  on  their  heads,  the  emblem 
of  the  new  fire  of  life  lit  within  them.  A  rushing, 
mighty  wind  seemed  to  blow  away  decay  and  sorrow 
and  sin,  and  to  pour  into  their  hearts  life  and  joy; 
to  blow  life  into  the  dry  bones  of  mankind.  Their 
souls  presaged,  though  their  minds  did  not  grasp, 

219 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  golden  age  of  man  that  all  the  great  poets  have 
seen.  The  spirit  of  the  living  God  filled  them 
with  the  utterance  of  the  good  news  they  brought 
to  men  of  peace  and  joy  and  righteousness.  The 
poor,  the  sick,  the  sorrowful,  the  old  men,  passing 
away  from  life,  the  young  beginning  it,  were  lifted 
alike  into  the  ideal  world;  the  workman,  the  slave, 
all  women  as  well  as  men,  were  joyous  with  the 
burden  of  a  glorious  prophecy.  "This  is  that," 
cried  one  of  them,  in  most  exultant  mood,  "which 
was  written  by  the  prophet  Joel :  '  And  it  shall 
come  to  pass  in  those  days,  saith  the  Lord,  that  1 
shall  pour  out  of  my  spirit  on  all  flesh,  and  your 
sons  and  your  daughters  shall  prophesy,  and  your 
old  men  shall  dream  dreams,  and  your  young  men 
see  visions;  and  on  your  servants  and  your  hand- 
maidens I  shall  pour  out  my  spirit,  and  they  shall 
prophesy. '  " 

Yes,  this  is  the  other  side  of  the  prophet  element 
—  that  which,  when  evil  has  been  clearly  seen  and 
doomed,  declares  a  resurrection;  which,  when  an 
old  world  is  passing  away,  tells  in  joy  of  a  new  world 
which  will  rise  from  the  grave  and  go  forth,  once 
more  with  youth  and  inspiration,  conquering  and  to 
conquer;  the  world  where  old  men  dream  dreams 
and  young  men  see  visions  where  the  servants  and 
the  handmaidens  of  the  decaying  great  and  the  use- 


THE  CALL    OF  SAMUEL 

less  rich  drink  of  the  spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  bear 
in  their  thoughts,  and  in  the  passions  of  their  ideas, 
the  regenerative  principles  of  a  new  society. 

This,  then,  is  the  conclusion.  In  both  these 
fashions  of  the  prophet  we  are  to  regard  the  world 
in  which  we  work  and  move ;  first,  with  clear  sight 
of  its  evil,  because  we  have  clear  sight  of  righteous- 
ness; and  secondly,  with  clear  sight  of  its  good, 
because  we  believe  that  God  lives  and  that  He  is 
the  Saviour  of  mankind.  We  look,  then,  on  human 
life,  not  as  mere  pessimists,  nor  yet  as  mere  opti- 
mists; not  as  those  who  only  see  evil  or  only  see 
good ;  but  as  men,  on  the  contrary,  who  have  a  stern 
war  to  wage  against  wrong,  decay,  and  death;  who 
are  bound  to  hate  these  things  and  to  destroy  them, 
but  who  think  that  the  very  worst  way  in  the  world 
to  meet  them  is  to  say  that  they  are  ineradicable, 
that  while  we  live  we  cannot  get  rid  of  them;  who, 
therefore,  see  their  enemy  clearly  and  know  his 
deformity,  but  who,  having  known  also  in  Jesus 
man  as  he  ought  to  be,  look  forward  to  the  health 
of  human  nature,  and  work  for  it  with  inspiration ; 
who,  believing  in  God,  cannot  even  conceive  that 
He  will  finally  leave  His  children;  and  therefore 
see,  beyond  the  defeats  of  earth,  the  final  victory, 
beyond  the  sin  of  earth  salvation,  beyond  its  failures 
accomplishment,  beyond  its  hatreds  love,  beyond  its 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

lies  the  Truth  Himself.  The  knowledge  of  evil  is 
ours,  but  it  does  not  damp  our  aspiration  nor  chill 
our  work.  The  knowledge  of  good  is  ours,  and  it 
often  lifts  that  work  into  the  Pentecostal  ecstasy 
and  the  Pentecostal  prophecy. 


222 


DAVID 


DAVID,    THE   SHEPHERD 

"  And  He  chose  David  also  His  servajit,  and  took  him  from 
the  sheep  folds :  fro77i  folloiving  the  ewes  great  luith  yoimg  He 
brought  him  to  feed  Jacob  his  people,  and  Israel  his  inherit- 
ance ^ 

Psalm  Ixxviii.  70,  71. 

TN  the  story  of  David  an  historical  element  is 
-*-  mixed  with  a  legendary  element.  We  have 
also  his  story,  after  his  youth  as  a  shepherd,  written 
from  two  points  of  view,  from  the  side  of  the  priest 
party  and  the  side  of  the  prophet  or  popular  party 
which  stood  against  the  priestly  clan,  that  is,  we 
have  the  story  written  with  two  distinct  tendencies, 
and  the  bias  on  both  sides  leads  them  both  away 
from  fact.  Yet  much  of  the  story  is  plainly  his- 
torical. It  is  plain  that  David  was  what  we  should 
call  an  honest  burgher's  son,  and  that  he  kept  the 
flocks  of  his  father  on  the  hills  about  his  native 
place.  He  rose  to  his  kingship  out  of  the  level  of 
the  people,  having  no  advantage  of  birth  more  than 
another.  It  is  plain  he  was  of  great  physical  beauty, 
strength,  and  courage,  with  an  eagerness  in  him 
IS  22s 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

for  fighting.  It  is  plain  he  was  a  born  leader  of 
men,  and  he  shows  this  not  only  as  the  young  hero 
of  the  army,  but  as  the  outlaw,  the  free-companion, 
the  king,  and  the  lawgiver.  It  is  plain  that  he  was 
early  mixed  up  with  the  court  of  Saul,  and  that  the 
eyes  of  the  people  were  more  and  more  fastened 
upon  him.  It  is  plain  that  he  was  driven  from  the 
tents  of  Saul,  and  that  he  lived  an  outlaw's  life, 
and  collected  round  him  a  band  of  daring  compan- 
ions who  lived  by  plunder  of  their  foes,  and  by 
blackmail  levied  on  their  countrymen.  It  is  plain 
that  when  he  was  made  king  he  united  under  him 
the  contending  political  parties  in  Israel.  It  is 
plain  that  he  was  the  first  who  welded  into  one 
nation  the  different  tribes  and  made  them  feel  them- 
selves a  homogeneous  people.  It  is  plain  that  he 
took  Jerusalem,  and  made  it  —  to  further  promote 
this  unity  —  the  capital,  the  centre  of  the  kingdom. 
It  is  plain  that  his  first  years  as  king  were  stormy, 
and  that  he  had  to  fight  his  way  against  many  par- 
ties to  confessed  overlordship.  It  is  plain  that  he 
had  to  face  a  great  rebellion  arising  within  his  own 
home.  It  is  plain  that  he  created  a  kind  of  stand- 
ing army,  an  ordered  government,  an  established 
religion,  and  that  these  important  things  made 
steadfast  the  national  unity  of  Israel.  It  is  plain 
that  having  done  these  things,  he  not  only  weak- 

226 


DAVID,    THE  SHEPHERD 

ened  the  frontier  foes  of  Israel,  but  made  many  of 
them  tributary.  At  his  death  Israel  had  taken  her 
place.  She  was  lifted  from  a  mere  congeries  of 
tribes  into  a  recognised  kingdom. 

These  were  great  works,  and  they  prove  a  great 
man.  But  he  was  not  only  great  in  this  fashion. 
He  was  also  a  man  of  an  enchanting  and  varied 
personality,  and  his  genius  extended  into  art.  He 
won  passionate  love  from  his  men,  and  his  example 
made  them  heroic  - —  one  of  those  sympathetic,  chi- 
valric  soldiers,  who,  easily  moved  to  feeling,  do  such 
pictorial  and  romantic  actions,  in  the  rush  of  their 
pity  or  joy,  that  the  acts  remain  like  living  things 
in  the  memory  of  a  nation.  Romance  clustered 
round  him,  and  was  the  source  of  the  universal 
power  of  his  story.  He  resembles  —  as  his  time 
resembles  their  time  —  one  of  the  saga  heroes  of 
the  days  of  the  folk-wanderings.  He  resembles 
some  of  those  heroes  too  in  this,  that  he  was  a  great 
singer.  The  sweet  harp  playing  of  David  and  his 
songs  are  a  consistent  element  in  every  account  of 
him,  and  a  steady  tradition.  His  passion  in  this 
was,  as  many  of  the  stories  hint,  wholly  self-for- 
getful. He  lost  himself  in  the  impulse  of  song, 
and  with  the  song  he  mingled  the  dance.  He  was 
impulsive  in  all  things,  and  of  course  most  impulsive 
in  love,  the  greatest  of  all  the  passions.     The  love 

227 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

of  women  was  always  his,  and  once  at  least  it  led 
him  into  deep  and  dishonourable  guilt.  But  his 
love  of  his  children  and  of  his  friends,  of  Absalom 
as  of  Jonathan,  was  as  intense  as  his  love  of  women. 
With  all  this  he  mingled,  and  it  is  a  strange  mix- 
ture, the  cool  and,  not  unfrequently,  the  cruel  policy 
of  the  Oriental.  He  had  a  cynical  prudence  in 
politics,  a  resolute  way  of  sacrificing  human  lives 
when  they  stood  in  the  way  of  his  aims,  a  delibera- 
tion in  falsehood  and  feigning  when  these  would 
win  a  personal  or  political  success,  which  shocks  us, 
but  which  would  have  been  praised  by  an  Oriental, 
even  by  a  Greek.  Nevertheless,  these  evils  did  not 
belong  to  his  youth,  but  to  the  time  when  Vv^ealth 
and  power  and  old  age  had  lessened  his  chivalry 
and  somewhat  spoiled  his  soul. 

These  matters  are  all  historical.  But  we  must 
also  remember  that  there  was  certain  to  gather 
round  his  name  and  life  a  succession  of  legends. 
Many  of  the  stories  we  read  of  him  cannot  be  true 
to  fact,  as  we  have  them;  and  we  must  set  aside 
those  portions  which  are  clearly  due  to  party  bias 
or  to  the  love  of  supernaturalism.  We  speak  of  his 
story  then,  not  as  an  actual  statement  of  fact,  but 
as  the  conception  which  later  writers,  and  the  people 
of  Israel  in  general,  had  of  a  great  king  and  hero. 
It  was  a  national  conception.      It  reveals  to  us  the 

228 


DAVID,    THE  SHEPHERD 

character  the  Hebrews  loved  and  honoured.     It  was 
a  religious  conception.     It  reveals  to  us  the  sort  of 
man  they  conceived  to  be  after  God's  own  heart; 
and  how  they  thought  that  God  dealt  with  him; 
and  what  they  believed  to  be  the  right  and   the 
wrong  ways  in  which  a  great  leader  should  meet 
and  master  a  number  of  various  events  and  trials. 
This  in  itself  —  this  conception  of  the  Hebrews  of  a 
national  and  religious  king  of  men  —  is  an  historical 
element  and  one  of  the  greatest  interest.      It  is  on 
that  I  preach ;  it  is  there  that  the  true  human  im- 
portance of  the  tale  is  to  be  found ;  the  true  lessons 
for  the  conduct  of  life,  and  the  teaching  of  religion. 
The  story  opens  on  the  hills  of  Bethlehem,  whither 
the  burghers  of  the  town  sent  their  young  men  to 
look  after  the  flocks  which   formed  part    of   their 
wealth.     Among   the   rest  was    David   the   son  of 
Jesse,  the  youngest  of  all  the  sons  of  Jesse;  active, 
of  great  strength  and  skill  of  his  hands,   a  close 
slinger,  inured  to  storms,  exceedingly  eager-hearted, 
goodly  to  look  on,  of  a  beautiful  countenance,  and 
his  auburn  hair  streaming  on  his  shoulders;  with 
his  shepherd's  bag  slung  round  his  neck,  his  staff 
in  his  hand,  his  sling  at  his  side,  and  his  rude  harp, 
on  which  he  played  when  he  rested  as  night  fell. 
Day  after  day,   night  after  night,  the   young  man 
lived  alone  in  the  silence  of  the  moors,  and  what 

229 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

thoughts  came  into  his  life,  and  of  what  kind  they 
were,  we  may  learn  from  the  first  books  of  the  Pre- 
lude of  Wordsworth.  The  poet's  nature  is  the  same 
all  over  the  world.  Nature  speaks  to  him  the  same 
language;  similar  chords  are  struck  within  him. 
Nor  is  the  comparison  to  Wordsworth  so  fantastic 
as  it  seems.  For  the  modern  poet  rose  out  of  as 
simple  and  patriarchal  a  life  as  David,  and  received 
very  much  the  same  kind  of  education,  and  had  in- 
deed—  so  far  as  the  poetic  spirit  is  concerned  —  the 
same  elements  in  his  heart.  Moreover,  from  without, 
the  same  elements  beat  like  waves  upon  his  spirit. 
We  see  clearly,  from  those  passages  which  deal  with 
Nature,  in  the  Psalms  and  the  Prophetic  books,  that 
the  Hebrews  were  open  to  the  solemn  impulses  of 
Nature  and  close  observers  of  her  doings.  The 
day  and  the  weather  changes  brought  David  their 
tidings,  authentic  tidings  of  invisible  things.  He 
saw  the  sun  rejoice  as  a  giant  when  he  rose  to  run 
his  course.  He  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  shake 
the  wilderness,  and  saw  the  lightning  of  God  dis- 
cover the  thick  bushes  of  the  grove.  He  watched 
the  river  swell  in  the  tempest,  and  the  mighty 
clouds  fold  their  curtains  together  for  the  pavilion 
of  Jehovah.  And  at  night,  when  darkness  revealed 
a  thousand  thousand  worlds  that  day  had  hidden,  in 
his  heart  he  cried:  "The  heavens  declare  the  glory 

230 


DAVID,   THE  SHEPHERD 

of  God,  and  the  firmament  showeth  His  handiwork. 
Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night 
showeth  knowledge.  There  is  no  speech  nor  lan- 
guage where  their  voice  is  not  heard."  Whether  he 
wrote  the  nineteenth  Psalm  matters  not;  these  were 
his  thoughts  and  emotions  concerning  the  worlds  of 
man  and  nature  which,  sharing  in  a  primaeval  sim- 
plicity and  in  solemn  trustfulness,  would  make  him 
a  silent  poet.  But  to  be  silent  was  not  David's  lot. 
Not  one  in  fifty  thousand  shepherds  has  that  power 
of  shaping  and  voicing  thought,  or  that  other  power 
of  musical  rendering  of  it,  which  makes  a  poet.  But 
David  had  that  divine  power.  The  shepherd  became 
the  singer,  and  sent  his  work  down  from  age  to  age, 
to  awake,  impel,  and  move  the  heart  of  man. 

He  was  born  to  be  king  of  his  people.  But  his 
greater  birth  was  his  birth  as  the  sweet  singer  of 
Israel.  And  both  were,  in  our  belief,  the  direct  work 
of  God.  The  coming  of  that  which  we  call  genius 
on  the  earth  is  what  we  call  Election  —  the  choice 
of  certain  men  to  do  work,  which,  being  done  at  a 
special  time  in  history,  gives  a  new  impulse  to  man- 
kind. They  may  come  in  science,  in  art,  in  litera- 
ture, in  law,  and  government ;  but  those  we  chiefly 
think  of  now  (because  we  are  considering  David) 
are  the  men  who,  having  not  only  power  to  lead  a 
nation,  have  power  also,  from  the  imaginative  and 

231 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

spiritual  in  them,  to  move  the  whole  heart  of  human- 
ity —  men  who  concentrate  into  themselves  the 
past,  embody  in  themselves  the  present,  and  repre- 
sent, as  an  ideal,  the  coming  glory  of  the  future; 
men  who  see  into  the  good  of  humanity  and  bring 
it  forth,  who  make  love  the  root  of  life,  and  faith 
its  support,  and  whose  hope  rides  in  triumph,  like 
a  great  ship,  over  the  troubled  and  stormy  waters  of 
humanity.  Such  men  are  powers  by  which  the  pro- 
gress of  men  is  worked.  God  sends  them  when  the 
times  are  ripe;  they  are  elected  to  a  special  work. 

That  is  the  truth  underneath  the  foolish  and  im- 
moral doctrine  of  Election  which  says  that  God 
chooses  some  to  be  saved  and  some  to  be  lost. 
There  is  no  partial  choice  in  salvation.  God  has 
elected  all  men  for  salvation  and  for  eternal  right- 
eousness, and  they  will  at  last  attain  these  ends. 
But  it  is  otherwise,  as  experience  tells  us,  in  the 
case  of  genius.  All  men  are  not,  like  David,  chosen 
to  be  one  of  the  illuminators  of  the  human  race; 
one  of  the  great  poets  of  the  world.  David  has  led 
the  voice  of  the  prayer  and  praise  of  men  for  more 
than  two  thousand  years.  Under  his  name,  so  great 
was  his  poetic  fame,  the  whole  book  of  Psalms, 
written  at  many  various  periods,  was  collected;  and 
more  of  it  seems  to  me  to  be  his  work  than  modern 
criticism  now  allows.     But  how  much  or  how  little 

232 


DAVID,    THE  SHEPHERD 

we  have  of  him  does  not  matter.  The  vast  tradi- 
tion of  his  poetry  selects  him  as  great  among  the 
greatest;  and  it  is  well,  as  I  have  done,  to  stay 
and  mark  how  his  life  with  his  sheep  and  his  early 
companionship  with  nature  ministered  to  his  poetic 
genius. 

Such  was  a  poet's  training,  and  I  wish  we  had 
more  of  it  in  our  over-reading  world,  and  in  our 
over-wrought  education.  As  long  as  culture  is 
made  wholly  to  consist  of  the  knowledge  of  what 
other  men  have  thought  and  written,  there  is  but 
little  chance  of  the  quick  growth  among  us  of  that 
original  thought  which  is  the  real  impulse  of  the 
world  and  the  real  help  of  men ;  or  of  that  vigorous 
and  clear  personality  being  formed  in  men,  which 
sends  fresh  blood  into  the  veins  of  humanity.  What 
we  want  more  of  in  education  is  to  let  God  and 
Nature  play  upon  the  virgin  soil  of  the  heart;  to 
keep  what  Wordsworth  called  a  wise  passiveness 
for  at  least  half  of  our  early  life;  to  take  to  heart 
the  meaning  of  his  lines :  — 

"  Think  you  'mid  all  this  mighty  sum 
Of  things  together  speaking, 
That  nothing  of  itself  will  come, 
But  we  must  still  be  seeking  ? " 

To  know  nothing  but  books,  as  to  know  nothing 
but  day,  hides  from  us  worlds  of  thought,  impulse, 

233 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

power,  and  creation ;  and  our  city  life  is  the  ruin 
of  half  the  imaginative  powers  of  England.  And 
when  we  are  thus  stripped  of  force  and  passion,  it 
is  easy  of  course  to  fall  into  that  position  which  is 
the  fruitful  cause  of  the  decay  of  the  imagination  — 
that  knowledge  and  the  reasoning  power  are  the 
greatest  things  for  the  culture,  and  in  the  life,  of  a 
people. 

It  cannot,  on  the  contrary,  be  too  strongly  said 
that  the  decay  or  the  sterilising  of  the  imaginative 
power,  and  the  decay  of  that  passionate  feeling  for 
Nature  and  humanity  which  is  irresistibly  forced 
to  create  for  itself,  and  which  repels  the  tyranny  of 
knowledge  while  it  accepts  its  services  —  is  not  only 
the  slow  consumer  of  genius  in  a  people,  but  also 
the  deadly  foe  of  the  greatness  of  a  people  in  every 
branch  of  its  action,  especially  in  its  social  and 
political  work.  Government  without  the  power  of 
feeling  the  emotions  of  the  people,  without  the  power 
of  imagining  their  condition  under  the  laws,  without 
the  rule  of  love  and  pity;  government  by  statistics, 
government  which  is  based  on  intellectual  conclu- 
sions only,  which  acts  first  from  what  it  calls  laws 
and  then  from  what  it  calls  pity  —  first  enfeebles, 
then  destroys  the  State.  And  society  which  directs 
its  life  by  knowledge  without  passion,  by  thought 
without  impulse;  which  cherishes  science  unmodi- 

234 


DAVID,   THE  SHEPHERD 

fied  in  its  action  by  human  emotion,  and  education 
without  passionate  ideals,  and  learning  without  the 
poetic  elements,  and  training  for  material  success 
while  the  ideal  and  spiritual  aims  and  reverence  are 
neglected ;  all,  in  fact,  towards  which  modern  society 
is  tending  and  by  which  a  great  part  of  it  is  over- 
ridden —  is  a  society  which  is  passing,  full  of  self- 
conceit,  into  an  age  of  ugliness,  decay,  and  death. 

It  seems  strange  to  link  this  on  to  David,  but  it 
follows  straight  enough  from  his  history.  It  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  a  great  deal  of  his  power  of 
leading  men  and  forming  a  dishevelled  set  of  tribes 
into  a  nation,  of  organising  a  people  into  a  whole, 
of  his  command  over  souls,  and  of  his  vast  influ- 
ence, even  to  the  present  day,  upon  humanity,  was 
due  to  the  solitary,  passionate,  and  receptive  hours 
which  he  passed  in  the  silence  of  nature,  and  under 
the  pressure  of  God,  upon  the  sheep-fed  hills  of 
Bethlehem. 

The  sheep-fed  hills  !  The  phrase  brings  another 
element  in  his  education  before  us.  Everything 
teaches  a  man  with  the  gift  of  genius  ;  but  if  he  has 
afterwards  to  rule  men,  it  is  no  ill  training  for  him 
to  be  such  a  shepherd  as  the  fells  of  Cumberland  or 
the  plains  of  the  East  demand.  He  will  learn  how 
to  love  animals,  and  it  is  a  step  towards  loving  man. 
The  sheep  are  weak  and  frightened,  easily  led  astray. 

235 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

He  must  learn  how  to  fill  them  with  confidence,  how 
to  make  them  trust  and  obey  him.     He  must  get 
them  to  move  and  act  together,  know  each  of  them 
and  make  each  of  them  know  him,  guide  and  govern 
them.     He  will  have  to  organise  their  food,  to  guard 
them  against  sudden  want  and  sudden  dangers,  to 
care  for  their  rest,   to  defend  them  against  cruel 
power,  to  take  care  of  the  ewes  great  with  young, 
to  carry  the  lambs  in  his  bosom,  to  seek  and  save 
the  lost.     There  is  scarcely  a  quality  or  necessity 
of  character  for  a  chief  of  men  which  may  not  be 
learned  by  a  shepherd,    if  he  have  the  genius  to 
know  what    he  is  doing.      And  the    Psalmist  who 
sang  of  David  felt  that  truth  when  he  cried :  "  And 
He  chose  David  also  His  servant,   and   took  him 
from  the  sheepfolds :  from  following  the  ewes  great 
with  young  He  brought  him  to  feed  Jacob  His  peo- 
ple, and  Israel  His  inheritance."     So  felt  also  that 
other  Psalmist,  who  I  would  fain  think  was  David 
himself,   who  compared  the  God  of  Israel  in  His 
love  and  care  of  His  people  to  the  Shepherd  who 
led  them  to  still  pastures  and  by  sweet  waters,  and 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.      So  felt 
the  prophets  when  they  spoke  of  the  perfect  King : 
"He  shall  feed   His  flock   like  a   shepherd.      He 
shall  gather  the  lambs  in  His  arms  and  carry  them 
in  His  bosom."     "I  will  feed  my  flock  of  Israel, 

236 


DAVID,   THE  SHEPHERD 

and  will  seek  that  which  is  lost  and  bring  again 
that  which  was  driven  away,  and  bind  up  that  which 
was  broken,  and  will  strengthen  that  which  was 
sick.  .  .  .  And  I  will  set  up  one  shepherd  over 
them,  and  he  shall  feed  them,  even  my  servant 
David."  And  so  thought  Jesus  also,  who  by  love 
was  King  of  men,  when  He  spoke  His  tenderest 
parable  of  the  Saviour  of  the  lost.  No  one  who 
thinks  of  David's  success  as  king  can  afford  to  for- 
get that  early  shepherd  education. 

Nor  should  we  forget  it.  Many  of  us  make  little 
of  the  means  of  self-education,  of  a  very  noble  kind, 
which  are  placed  in  our  hands  if  we  do  our  duty  to 
the  animals  we  live  with,  if  we  love  them,  watch 
lest  they  be  injured,  care  for  their  comfort,  guard 
them  with  tenderness;  and,  since  they  do  so  much 
work  for  us,  be  grateful  for  that  work  and  resent  as 
a  baseness  any  wrong  to  them.  I  look  upon  any 
injury  done  to  man's  natural  or  developed  tender- 
ness to  animals  as  an  injury  done  to  the  whole  State, 
as  a  degradation  to  humanity,  as  a  grave  wrong  to 
morals,  and  a  worse  wrong  to  the  ideal  of  gentleness 
and  courtesy  which  is  at  the  root  of  so  much  of 
national  honour.  We  sacrifice  animals  for  our  food ; 
it  is,  I  suppose,  a  necessity.  But  the  animal  is 
swiftly  slain,  and  it  ought  to  be  a  part  of  civilisation 
to  do  this  work  in  a  kindly,  unrevoking,  and  un- 

237 


THE    OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

cruel  manner.  I  see  no  evil  in  that,  any  more  than 
I  do  in  a  quick  death  for  man  when  his  time  has 
come.  There  are  also  multitudes  of  animals  whom 
we  must  put  an  end  to,  lest  man  and  the  works  of 
man  should  be  wholly  eaten  up ;  but  we  are  bound 
to  do  this  in  an  expeditious  way  without  causing 
needless  suffering. 

But  there  are  numbers  of  animals  who  are  our 
workers  and  our  companions,  whom  we  do  not  eat, 
and  whom  we  use  up  for  our  work.  It  is  too  much 
our  habit  to  treat  them  as  if  they  had  no  feeling,  as 
if  no  thought  were  to  be  given  to  their  suffering, 
as  if  no  gratitude  were  due  to  them.  The  pains 
inflicted  on  the  kindly  races  who  labour  for  us,  and 
who  would  love  us  well,  are  pitiable;  and  they 
lower,  when  they  prevail  in  a  people,  the  whole 
spiritual  temper  of  the  nation.  But  what  can  we 
as  yet  expect  when  we  work  our  poor,  our  own  kind, 
the  men  and  women  and  children  whom  we  hire, 
worse  even  than  our  horses,  feed  them  worse  and 
house  them  worse,  pity  them  and  honour  them  less.-* 
How  much  of  that  want  of  mercy  and  gentleness 
to  men  comes  out  of  our  careless  cruelty  to  animals 
I  do  not  know,  but  as  long  as  we  make  sport  out 
of  the  misery  of  wild  creatures,  and  as  long  as  the 
torture  of  animals  is  excused  for  the  sake  of  knowl- 
edge, and  the  art  of  healing  men  is  made  to  rest 

238 


DAVID,   THE  SHEPHERD 

on  the  deliberately  administered  agony  of  creatures 
whose  weakness  we  are  bound  in  honour  to  protect 
—  it  is  no  wonder  that  pitifulness,  and  sensitive- 
ness to  suffering  and  to  justice  are  so  lessened  that 
we  have  no  real  care  for  the  hideous  pains  which 
society,  for  the  sake  of  its  own  luxury,  comfort,  and 
amusement,  permits,  without  thought,  to  be  inflicted 
on  the  poor.  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  range 
of  things  needful  for  the  greatness  or  the  culture  of 
a  nation  more  necessary  than  the  habit  of  pity, 
than  the  daily  practice  of  it;  and  everything  which 
enfeebles  that  habit  not  only  separates  the  nation 
from  sweetness  and  light,  but  is  a  vital  danger  to 
the  life  of  the  State.  Much  has  been  done  of  late 
with  regard  to  animals;  but  the  more  we  have  done, 
the  more  vividly  ought  we  to  see  the  enormous  evil 
which  still  remains ;  the  more  we  ought  to  contend 
against  all  cruelty  to  animals  from  whatever  quarter 
it  comes,  and  whatever  excuses  are  made  for  it,  from 
the  side  of  our  amusements,  our  sport,  our  luxury, 
or  our  science. 

Moreover,  to  gain  the  opposite  habit,  to  live  with 
our  animals  as  the  Oriental  and  Highland  shepherd 
lives  with  his  sheep,  contains  in  it  so  many  lessons 
for  life,  that  to  gain  that  habit  for  our  children 
ought  to  be  a  part  of  every  education;  not  only  of 
the  individual  for  the  sake  of  his  own  character, 

239 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

but  of  the  citizen  for  the  sake  of  the  character  of  his 
nation.  It  will  teach  us  to  wisely  manage,  to  lead, 
and  govern  men,  if  we  are  born  for  that.  It  will 
teach  us  to  carry  the  principles  of  pity,  of  help  to 
the  weak,  of  gratitude  for  service,  of  saving  the  lost, 
into  our  dealings  with  the  flock  of  men  and  women 
and  children,  who  are  as  weak  and  troubled  as  sheep 
and  as  easily  led  astray;  and  for  that  business  we 
are  born,  nay,  to  that  business  God  has  dedicated 
us.  We  are  to  be  shepherds  of  the  sheep.  David 
gained  that  habit,  and  its  power  upon  him  is  shown 
at  the  hour  of  his  darkest  sin  and  led  him  to  his 
bitterest  repentance.  It  was  when  Nathan  the 
prophet  had  likened  his  conduct  to  Uriah  to  that 
of  a  rich  man  who  took  a  lamb  that  he  loved  from  a 
poor  man,  that  his  heart  was  broken  into  dreadful 
penitence.  His  shepherd  life  came  back  to  him. 
"The  man  shall  die,"  David  said;  "he  had  no 
pity."      "Thou  art  the  man,"  said  Nathan. 


240 


II 

THE   COURAGE   OF   DAVID 

"  And  David  said  to  Saul,  Thy  servant  kept  his  father's 
sheep,  and  there  came  a  lion  and  a  bear,  and  took  a  lamb  out 
of  the  flock;  and  I  went  out  after  him,  and  smote  him,  and 
delivered  it  out  of  his  mouth :  and  when  he  arose  against  me, 
I  caught  him  by  his  beard,  and  smote  him  and  slew  him. 
Thy  servant  sleto  both  the  lion  and  the  bear  ;  and  this  uncir- 
cumcised  Philistine  shall  be  as  ojie  of  them,  seeing  he  has  de- 
fied the  armies  of  the  living  God.  David  said  moreover,  The 
Lord  that  delivered  me  out  of  the  paw  of  the  lion  and  out  of 
the  paw  of  the  bear,  he  will  deliver  me  out  of  the  hand  of  this 

Philistine.'' 

I  Samuel  xvii.  34-37- 

THIS  passage  embodies  two  of  the  stories  which 
collected  round  the  youth  of  David  — the 
story  of  his  conquest  of  the  wild  beasts  which 
attacked  his  flock,  and  the  story  of  his  conquest  of 
the  giant  Philistine  who  attacked  the  armies  of  his 
countrymen,  or,  as  David  is  made  to  call  them,  the 
armies  of  the  living  God.  The  tales  are  the  first 
record  of  the  courage  of  David,  of  his  qualities  as 

i6  241 


THE    OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

a  war-leader,  of  the  chivalrous  faith  and  boldness 
which  placed  him  at  the  head  of  Israel.  They  may 
have  no  historical  value,  but  they  have  all  the 
quality  of  romantic  poetry,  and  they  embody  truth 
which  concerns  human  life  at  all  times,  and  espe- 
cially regarding  the  virtue  of  courage.  They  reveal 
its  foundations  and  its  edification  in  the  soul. 

The  shepherd  life  in  those  early  days  was  a  dan- 
gerous life.  Fierce  thunder-storms  flew  up  the  sky, 
and  the  lightning  struck  the  sheep.  Fiercer  rain 
came  at  times  and  swelled  the  streams  to  flood,  and 
drowned  the  beasts,  and  put  the  shepherd's  life 
in  jeopardy.  The  wolves  hung  round  the  fold  at 
night,  and  had  to  be  driven  away  at  the  peril  of 
his  life.  By  day  as  well  as  by  night  greater  beasts 
attacked  the  feeding  flock,  and  we  have  this  story 
of  David  fighting  for  his  sheep  with  the  lion  and 
the  bear,  and  slaying  them  both.  He  was  always 
on  the  watch,  and  his  courage  was  high.  It  never 
failed  him  in  a  long  life  during  which  there  was 
incessant  need  of  every  form  of  courage,  of  mere 
physical  bravery,  of  fortitude,  of  quick  choice  of 
plan  where  quickness  and  dash  were  everything, 
of  audacity  in  forlorn  hopes,  of  long  endurance  of 
trouble,  of  coolness  and  presence  of  mind  in  des- 
perate circumstance,  of  the  power  to  see  facts  as 
they  were  and  to  meet  them,    and  finally  of  the 

242 


THE   COURAGE   OF  DAVID 

power  to  face  his  own  guilt  and  to  repent  of  it. 
Well,  he  gained  this  great  habit  of  courage  during 
his  shepherd  life.  When  he  first  comes  forth  into 
public  life  he  is  already  celebrated  for  his  brave 
deeds,   already  known  to  the  women  of  Judah. 

He  gained,  I  say,  the  habit  of  courage,  and  in 
most  cases  courage  is  a  habit.  There  are  but  few 
who  are  born  without  any  feeling  of  that  nerve- 
excitement  which  we  call  fear;  and  they  are  not 
the  better,  but  the  worse,  leaders  of  men,  either  in 
battle  or  other  dangers,  on  account  of  that.  They 
are  unable  to  guard  their  men  against  a  danger  they 
do  not  realise,  and  they  have  not  enough  sympathy 
with  the  natural  trouble  of  their  untrained  men. 
The  men  who  are  best  as  leaders  are  men  who 
have  known  the  sensation  of  fear,  but  who  have 
not  yielded  to  it,  who  have  entirely  conquered  it. 
Then  they  can  feel  with  others ;  they  have  a  careful 
prudence,  a  forethought,  and  presence  of  mind  in 
danger,  which  is  one  of  the  parts  of  courage.  They 
have  foreseen  also  the  fear  which  their  men  will 
have  and  they  nurse  them  into  bravery.  Habit 
makes  them  fearless,  and  habit  in  time  makes  their 
men  fearless.  But  the  fearlessness  is  often  only 
great  in  their  own  business.  The  soldier,  the  sailor, 
the  doctor  in  a  plague,  amaze  outsiders,  but  if  we 
were  to  put  any  one  of  them  in  the  place  of  any 

243 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

other  the  new  and  unknown  danger  might  trouble 
them  strangely.  Imagination  unsettles  their  nerve ; 
they  lose  presence  of  mind ;  they  may  do  the  work, 
but  it  is  ill  done.  I  have  known  men  absolutely 
fearless  in  one  danger  who  were  almost  overwhelmed 
by  a  different  kind  of  danger.  I  have  met  a  man 
who  thought  nothing  of  charging  amid  a  rain  of 
bullets  who  did  not  dare  to  visit  a  patient  in  small- 
pox. I  once  saw  a  man  who  had  proved  his  courage 
again  and  again  on  shore  grow  as  white  as  a  sheet 
in  an  open  boat  when  a  heavy  wave  half  filled  it. 
The  courage  was  the  courage  of  habit,  and  the  fear 
was  the  fear  engendered  by  want  of  habit.  There- 
fore, one  who  cares  to  have  a  courage  above  proof 
ought  to  practise  himself  in  all  kinds  of  danger. 

All  this,  however,  points  to  something  deeper  as 
the  true  foundation  of  human  courage.  The  sources 
of  the  courage  which  in  the  mass  of  men  will  stand 
all  kinds  of  danger,  are  not  to  be  found  only  in 
physical,  but  much  more  in  moral  and  spiritual 
training.  Courage  is  of  the  first  importance  for 
life.  It  is  well  to  get  it  well  into  our  being;  and 
one  of  the  first  things  to  do,  in  order  to  have  it  at 
all  times  and  in  all  trials,  is  to  get  rid  of  the  notion 
that  it  is  only  a  physical  quality,  and  to  under- 
stand that  it  can  be  won  by  the  will  when  the  will 
towards  it  is  directed  by  noble  motives  in  accord- 

244 


THE   COURAGE   OF  DAVID 

ance  with  the  claims  on  us  of  Right  and  Love. 
There  are  sure  to  be  hours  in  life  when  the  whole 
success  of  all  whom  we  lead  —  it  matters  little 
whether  we  only  lead  our  own  household  or  a  whole 
army  —  rests  on  our  facing  danger  boldly.  We 
must  accustom  ourselves  to  realise  that;  and  then 
the  importance  of  our  courage  to  others  must  so 
dwell  upon  our  mind  that,  when  the  hour  of  danger 
comes,  we  shall  be  able,  from  the  force  of  the  high 
motive  of  our  courage  being  the  salvation  of  others, 
to  master  our  trembling  nerves,  if  we  are  of  that 
temperament ;  to  divide  as  it  were  our  soul  from 
our  body;  and  to  conquer  the  nervous  thrill  of  the 
body  by  the  high  passion  of  the  soul.  You  remem- 
ber the  story  told  of  Henri  IV.  ;  it  is  a  good  illus- 
tration. He  was  naturally  afraid  in  danger,  and 
when  he  first  went  into  battle  at  the  siege  of 
Cahors,  his  body  shook  all  over  with  fear.  Then 
he  was  heard  to  say:  "Vile  carcase  !  thou  tremblest. 
But  thou  wouldst  tremble  ten  times  more,  if  thou 
knewest  where  I  am  going  to  take  thee. "  And  he 
rushed  forward  twenty  yards  ahead  of  his  men,  and 
his  axe  was  the  first  to  strike  the  gates.  Lift  the 
soul  above  the  body;  it  is  the  secret  of  courage. 
The  two  stories  of  David  give  us  two  other  illustra- 
tions. When  the  lion  sprang  upon  the  sheep  and 
he  was  alone,  a  stripling  against  the  great  beast, 

245 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

he  might  have  feared  and  fled.  But  pity  and  love 
filled  his  heart,  and  the  sense  of  duty.  He  was 
put  there  to  protect  and  save ;  and  he  forgot  to  be 
afraid.  The  rush  of  these  fine  passions  killed  the 
thought  of  personal  danger.  What  mattered  what 
happened  to  him,  provided  pity  and  duty  were  kept 
unstained.  And  he  ran  to  meet  the  beasts.  So 
should  it  be  with  us.  Let  the  masters  of  our  being 
be  love,  pity,  and  the  doing  of  duty ;  let  these,  by 
daily  training,  be  the  first  in  us;  and  they  will 
spring  to  the  front  with  such  an  impulse  in  all 
trial,  that  we  shall  not  even  know  fear.  In  their 
rush  the  danger  will  be  over,  and  overcome,  almost 
before  we  are  aware  of  it. 

Look  at  the  same  thing  in  the  second  story,  that 
of  the  giant  of  Gath.  David  was  one  of  those  who 
had  the  honour  of  his  country  at  his  heart.  That 
noble  passion,  which  so  greatly  exalts  the  heart  and 
purifies  the  life  by  reverence  and  admiration,  which 
has  so  much  of  ideality  and  variety  in  it,  was  cher- 
ished by  David,  and  rose,  at  a  touch,  into  intensity. 
In  that  intensity  all  fear  vanished.  The  indigna- 
tion with  which  his  heart  swelled  for  his  country 
and  his  God  sent  him  forth  against  the  great  brute 
before  whom  the  whole  army  of  Israel  trembled, 
and  sent  him  forth  to  victory.  Therefore,  let  us 
win  noble  passions,   ideal  aims,   deep   reverences, 

246 


THE   COURAGE   OF  DAVID 

beyond  ourselves :  and  in  the  hour  when  they  are 
attacked,  and  we  have  to  defend  them  at  the  risk  of 
health,  or  pain,  or  life,  the  danger  will  not  touch 
the  soul;  fear  will  have  no  existence;  we  shall  fly 
to  the  battle  with  carelessness  and  joy. 

The  same  principle  is  applicable  to  much  smaller 
matters  in  life  than  the  defence,  without  fear,  of 
one's  country,  or  one's  cause.  There  are  a  number 
of  fears  which  belong  to  a  nervous  or  imaginative 
temperament,  and  which  have  a  very  troublous  in- 
fluence on  common,  daily  life.  There  are  persons 
who  are  almost  victims,  as  if  they  were  children, 
of  the  nameless  dreads  of  the  supernatural  or  of 
the  unknown,  or  who,  building  up  in  fancy  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  future,  suffer  the  terrors  of  that 
which  may  never  happen.  There  are  others  who 
have  real  torment  about  their  health.  They  receive 
a  shock,  and  they  watch  themselves  from  that  time 
forth,  so  that  the  slightest  change  in  their  body 
causes  them  to  lose  the  use  of  life.  They  keep 
their  hand,  as  it  were,  always  upon  their  pulse,  and 
if  it  beat  strangely,  disease  or  death  rises  before 
them;  they  lie  awake  in  dread  at  night;  the  shadow 
of  their  fear  lies  on  all  their  work;  their  power  to 
love  is  spoiled  or  destroyed.  This  is  a  pitiable 
business.  There  are  thousands  of  lives  ruined  in 
this  fashion  by  secret  fears.     The  very  springs  of 

247 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

action  are  finally  broken ;  efforts  are  shrunk  from, 
or  not  made,  which  men  and  women  are  bound  to 
make.  When  most  is  dependent  on  them,  when 
their  friends  most  want  them,  all  of  a  sudden,  for 
no  reason,  they  retire.  Or  at  the  moment  of  action 
some  trivial  play  of  fancy  or  superstition  holds 
them  back.  When  they  ought  to  be  most  free  and 
alert  and  joyous,  the  fear  of  ill-health  or  death 
depresses  them  into  self-slavery,  into  sloth,  into 
querulous  melancholy. 

None  of  us  should  allow  ourselves  or  our  chil- 
dren to  be  self -victimised  in  this  fashion.     Parents 
should  gather  round  their  children's  hearts  motives 
beyond  themselves  which  will  have  power  to  place 
their  fears  in  the  second  rank,  and,  finally,  to  over- 
come them.     Ridicule  or  punishment  for  the  nervous 
fears  of  children  is  wicked  and  foolish,  because  it 
only  doubles  their  fears.     That  for  which  parents 
should  try,  is  to  free  their  children  altogether  from 
this  curse.     And  the  first  thing  they  have  to  do  is 
to  treat  all  fears  as  having  a  real  existence  to  chil- 
dren, to  be  gentle  with  their  terrors,  to  even  sym- 
pathise with  the  pain  they  cause;  and  then  to  meet 
them  with  an  appeal  to  the  soul  and  to  the  affec- 
tions of  the  child  —  to  motives  beyond  himself  — 
to  honour,  or  faith,  or  sacrifice,  or  love  —  and  the 
special  motive  chosen  will  depend  on  the  nature  of 

248 


THE   COURAGE   OF  DAVID 

the  child.  As  to  ourselves  —  the  same  rule  applies. 
We  must  get  motives  for  losing  fear  beyond  our- 
selves. Our  slavery  to  any  dread  is  most  frequently 
caused  by  thinking  that  our  health,  our  prosperity, 
our  life  are  the  most  important  matters.  But  the 
most  important  matters  are  not  these,  but  the 
health,  the  help,  the  peace,  the  life  of  others  than 
ourselves.  And  if  we  could  grasp  that  truth,  and 
the  impulse  it  brings,  we  shall  cease  to  think  of 
our  own  health  or  life,  or  rather,  we  should  lose 
the  thought  of  these  things  in  the  desire  to  save 
others  from  fear  and  shame.  Secret  dreads  are  to 
be  conquered,  not  for  our  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake 
of  the  work  we  are  bound  to  do  for  man,  and  which 
these  dreads  disenable  us  from  doing.  There  is 
the  lofty  motive :  "  I  must  live  beyond  fear  of  all 
things,  that  I  may  save  men  as  Christ  saved  them. 
My  temperament  is  nervous,  excitable,  prone  to 
fears;  I  will  steadily  train  the  will  to  overcome 
that  weakness.  Else  I  cannot  do  all  I  ought  to  do 
for  God  and  m.an." 

If  we  want  to  conquer  fear,  let  us  seize  this  truth 
—  courage  lies  in  the  predominance  of  the  high 
powers  of  the  soul ;  in  the  pre-eminence  of  the  love 
of  others.  What  mother  ever  feared  death  when 
her  child  was  in  danger.?  Even  in  the  animals  this 
is  true;  and  in  the  pre-eminence  in  our  soul  of  the 

249 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

imperative  of  duty,  in  the  deep  resolve  that  what- 
ever becomes  of  us,  justice  and  truth  and  honour 
shall  remain  in  our  hands  unstained ;  in  the  deter- 
mination of  the  will  never  to  be  false  to  love  — 
to  the  love  of  God  and  the  love  of  man  —  the  death 
of  all  fear  is  contained  and  finally  secured. 

If,  then,  David  had  not  habituated  himself  to 
courage;  if  through  fear  he  had  failed  to  protect 
his  sheep;  if  his  imaginative  quality  had  made  him 
dread  the  unknown;  and  if,  dreading  it,  he  had 
not  conquered  that  dread ;  if  love  and  pity  for  his 
sheep  had  not  made  him  meet  the  lion  with  a  pas- 
sion which  forgot  his  danger;  if  reverence  and  love 
of  his  country  and  her  God  had  not  been  stronger 
in  his  stripling  heart  than  terror  of  the  Philistine; 
if  the  soul  in  him  had  not  been  master  of  the 
nerves  —  where  would  have  been  his  career?  What 
could  he  have  won  for  his  people?  What  name 
would  he  have  sent  down  to  posterity  ?  His  whole 
use,  his  whole  success,  depended  on  his  gaining 
the  habit  of  courage.  Our  use  in  life,  our  sacri- 
fice, our  influence  depend  also  on  that.  We  are 
bound  to  work  for  courage  at  every  point  with  all 
our  might ;  and  there  are  none,  however  fearful  by 
nature,  who  may  not  win  it.  It  is  a  matter  of  habit, 
and  the  habit  of  it  depends  on  the  development  of 
the  unselfish  powers  of  the  soul. 

250 


THE   COURAGE   OF  DAVID 

Lastly,  I  have  kept  the  most  important  of  all  the 
grounds  and  supports  of  courage  to  the  end.  It  is 
made  by  all  the  writers  of  David's  story  —  even  by 
those  who  took  up  that  story  as  late  as  the  eighth 
century  before  Christ  —  to  be  at  the  basis  of  his 
courage.  This  foundation  is  trust  in  God  as  his 
King  and  Friend.  His  life  or  death,  he  held,  were 
in  the  hand  of  God,  and  what  happened  to  him  was 
in  a  divine  will  which  would  do  what  was  right. 
All  he  had  himself  to  do  —  and  this  conviction 
saved  his  thought  from  mere  fatalism  —  was  to  fol- 
low what  seemed  to  him  right,  to  listen  to  and 
obey  the  voice  of  Jehovah  within  him.  In  that 
faith  he  ran  against  the  lion,  in  that  faith  he 
took  his  sling  against  the  giant.  "  If  I  am  right, 
I  shall  prevail;  if  I  am  wrong,  I  shall  find  it 
out.  If  I  die,  it  is  His  will  who  is  righteousness. 
Let  God  do  His  will,  and  I  will  do  what  I  think 
His  will  to  be,  if  a  thousand  deaths  stand  in  my 
way." 

Yes,  want  of  this  trust  in  God,  unbelief  in  a  love 
and  righteousness  directing  the  world,  is  the  un- 
known source  of  more  than  half  our  fears.  But 
trust  in  God,  trust  in  an  all-good  and  loving  will, 
moving  us  and  the  whole  world  towards  perfect 
work,  is  the  source  of  the  highest  courage  of  which 
man  is  capable.    With  that  conviction,  what  becomes 

251 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LITE 

of  our  superstitious,  nameless  dreads?  The  night 
is  as  bright  as  the  day,  the  prison  is  a  paradise, 
our  battle  is  delight.  Dangers  from  the  forces  of 
nature,  from  disease;  dangers  in  the  midst  of  war, 
on  the  seas,  in  hours  when  we  are  lost  and  alone, 
have  no  force  to  subdue  our  will,  or  lower  our 
effort,  or  lead  us  to  shame,  for  they  are  in  the  will 
of  God  for  us ;  and  if  we  are  smitten  by  them,  our 
spirit  which  is  our  real  self,  will  not  be  divided 
from  Him,  and  that  is  all  we  need  care  about. 
Death  has  no  terror  for  one  who  knows  that  he 
and  his  Father  are  one.  The  man  who  can  truly 
say,  "I  believe  in  God,  the  Father  Almighty," 
is  master  of  all  fears,  for  he  knows  that  God  is 
love. 

And  when  we  have  faith  in  God,  we  have  faith 
in  ourselves,  and  when  we  have  both  these  faiths, 
we  have  also  faith  in  the  rightness  of  our  cause; 
and  faith  in  ourselves  is  another  ground  of  physi- 
cal courage,  and  faith  in  our  cause  being  right  is 
another  ground  of  moral  courage.  But  all  the 
minor  faiths  of  life  run  up  into  the  mightiest,  into 
faith  in  God.  That  is  the  most  victorious  power  in 
the  whole  world.  No  fear  can  breathe  or  tremble 
in  its  atmosphere.  Well  did  David  know  it,  and 
well  did  a  greater  than  David  know  it !  Our  master 
Jesus  realised  it  in  a  life  which  never  faltered,  in 

252 


THE   COURAGE   OF  DAVID 

a  death  which  has  been  the  inspiration  of  fearless- 
ness. "Why  are  ye  fearful,  O  ye  of  little  faith," 
He  cried,  when  the  storm  broke  on  Galilee.  In 
that  brief  word,  the  cause  and  the  conquest  of 
fear  are  both  contained. 


253 


Ill 

THE   CONSECRATION   OF   DAVID 

'■^ And  Samuel  said  to  Jesse,  Are  here  all  thy  children? 

And  he  said,  There  reniaiiieth  yet  the  youngest,  and,  behold, 

he  keepeth  the  sheep.     And  Samuel  said  to  Jesse,  Send  and 

Jctch  him  ;  for  we  will  not  sit  down  until  he  come  hither. 

And  he  sent  and  brought  him  in.     Now  he  was  ruddy,  and 

withal  of  a   beautiful  countenance,  and  goodly  to  look  to. 

And  the  Lord  said:  Arise,  anoint  him  :  for  this  is  he.     Then 

Samuel  took  the  horn  of  oil  and  anointed  him  in  the  midst  of 

his  brethren  :  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  came  on  David  from 

that  day  forward." 

I  Samuel  xvi.  11-23. 

THE  life  of  David  among  his  sheep  would  ap- 
pear but  commonplace  to  the  burghers  of 
Bethlehem,  but  when  there  is  genius  in  a  youth, 
nothing  is  common.  All  things  speak  to  it,  teach 
it,  exalt  it ;  and  its  breath  blows  upon  what  seems 
common  and  makes  it  exceeding  fair.  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  there  is  nothing  more  divine  on 
earth  than  Youth  which  loves  so  much  all  things 
beyond  itself,  that  it  habitually  lives  in  grandeur 

25s 


THE    OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

and  beauty.  It  were  well,  perhaps,  for  David's 
happiness  had  he  then  died,  before  the  fierce  world 
had  seized  upon  his  life;  but  it  would  not  have  been 
well  for  the  world  of  men ;  and  it  is  duty  done,  and 
battling  with  trouble,  and  forging  experience  out  of 
fire  and  blows,  for  the  love  of  man,  that  we  need 
from  men.  If  they  give  us  that,  however  they 
suffer,  they  have  done  well.  We  love  David,  the 
sinful,  sorrowful  veteran,  worn  with  the  blows  of 
life,  more  than  David  the  youth  whose  every  breath 
was  love  and  purity  and  joy.  It  was  Paradise  in 
which  he  lived.  But  Paradise  does  not  last.  We 
are  driven  forth  among  thorns  and  thistles  to  till 
the  ground  of  our  life,  in  sweat  and  sorrow,  that 
we  may  make  a  harvest  whose  corn  men  may  eat 
when  we  are  gone.  But  before  we  are  driven  forth 
into  stern  reality,  some  event  from  outside,  or  some 
inward  prediction  of  duty,  or  some  impassioned 
feeling  such  as  befell  Wordsworth  on  the  morning 
when  he  felt  himself  a  consecrated  spirit,  sets  us 
apart  from  the  ancient  life  of  youth,  and  leads  us 
forward  in  thought  upon  the  life  of  manhood.  We 
know  that  we  are  called,  and  that  the  Master  of 
Life  is  the  Caller.  But  then,  there  is  a  pause,  a 
time  of  quiet,  in  which  we  vaguely  feel  what  is 
coming,  predict  its  duties,  realise  perhaps  its  temp- 
tations, and  gather  our  powers  together  for  action. 

256 


THE   CONSECRATION  OF  DAVID 

Such  an  event  and  such  a  result  now  entered  into 
David's  life;  at  least,  so  runs  the  story. 

One  day  Samuel  drew  near  to  Bethlehem,  and 
the  elders,  who  knew  how  stern  a  judge  he  was,  and 
how  often  slaughter  followed  on  his  coming  —  for 
we  are  still  in  the  fierce  and  savage  times  of  Israel 
—  came  out  to  meet  him  with  terror.  "  Comest 
thou  in  peace.?"  they  cried.  "In  peace,"  he 
answered,  "to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  Jehovah."  Then 
follows  the  story  of  this  chapter.  The  tale  was 
probably  invented  afterwards  to  supply  a  super- 
natural beginning  to  the  fame  and  life  of  David. 
But  it  is  the  image  of  the  crisis  between  youth  and 
manhood  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and  the  humanity 
of  the  tale  is  astonishing.  Its  details  are  nothing, 
its  spirit  is  everything;  and  it  is  full  of  interest 
and  of  teaching  for  us. 

At  the  sacrifice  Samuel  drew  David  aside  and 
anointed  him  as  the  future  king.  But  I  do  not  think 
that  the  writer  of  the  tale  intends  us  to  understand 
that  Samuel  told  David  that  he  was  to  be  king.  The 
whole  of  the  after-story  loses  all  probability  and  is 
even  revolting  (a  thing  a  good  inventor  would  not 
have  allowed  himself  to  do)  if  David  is  to  be  under- 
stood to  be  aware  of  the  intention  of  Samuel.  He 
only  knew  that  the  great  prophet  had  singled  him 
out  for  some  important  purpose,  had  dedicated  him 
17  257 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

for  a  leader.  The  writer  meant  us  to  understand 
that  David  went  back  to  his  sheep  not  knowing  he 
should  be  king  after  Saul. 

He  went  back,  then,  with  nothing  more  in  his 
mind  than  that  the  prophet  had  chosen  him  for  a 
great  work  which  would  fall,  in  due  time,  into  his 
hands.  God  had  selected  him  to  do  great  deeds  for 
Israel.  He  had  already  dreamt  of  these.  Now  his 
dreams,  the  prophetic  aspirations  of  genius,  were 
confirmed  from  without.  A  certain  shape  and  solid- 
ity had  been  given  them.  He  was  a  consecrated 
spirit;  isolated  from  others;  and  yet,  nearer  to 
others,  because  the  purpose  of  the  isolation  was  for 
the  good  and  glory  of  his  country,  not  for  himself. 
We  see  that  was  his  thought,  because,  excited  as 
he  must  have  been,  he  returned  quietly,  in  humil- 
ity and  with  trust  in  God's  leading,  to  his  lowly 
daily  work.  Again  he  watched  his  sheep;  again, 
stretched  on  the  hillside  beneath  the  stars,  he 
thought  and  dreamed  before  he  slept.  Yet  how 
changed  he  was !  The  step  had  been  made  which 
carried  him  out  of  the  fields  of  boyhood  to  the 
threshold  of  the  temple  of  Humanity.  He  saw  its 
gates  open,  and  a  vast  crowd  moving  within,  and 
among  them  he  was  to  live  and  act.  He  realised 
something  of  the  vastness  of  mankind;  and  he  real- 
ised his  own  individual  life  as  he  had  never  done 

258 


THE   CONSECRA  TION  OF  DA  VID 

before;  and  then  in  this  double  realisation,  he  real- 
ised God,  not  as  a  vague  impression  from  without, 
but  as  an  actual  presence  in  his  soul. 

Yes,  it  was  a  mighty  change,  and  only  David  and 
God  knew  it.  But  how  does  the  tale  speak  to  us } 
How  is  it  reflected  in  our  lives.'*  That  is  the  ques- 
tion; and  when  we  have  answered  it,  we  shall 
understand  the  heart  of  David,  and  in  that  under- 
standing, comprehend  our  own. 

All  are  not  chosen  for  great  deeds,  as  David  was, 
but  all  are  chosen  for  some  special  work.  It  is  my 
conviction  that  every  soul  is  given  life  with  the  in- 
tention that  he  should  show  forth  in  it  some  phase 
of  the  life  of  God,  and  do  some  part  of  that  vast 
work  which  will  finally  close  in  the  completed  glory 
of  the  human  race.  Many  who  are  born  into  this 
world  cannot  do  that  work  here,  weighted  as  they 
are  by  the  sins  of  others,  by  the  evils  of  social  life, 
by  hereditary  disease  and  crime.  But  beyond  this 
world  these  will  find  their  place  and  work.  They 
have  been  victims,  they  will  be  victors. 

Those,  then,  with  this  belief,  we  may  lay  aside. 
But  there  are  many  of  us  who  have  our  life  in  our 
own  hands,  whom  God  has  placed  where  our  will 
for  right  and  love  can  operate.  We  are  chosen  to 
reveal  in  our  life  some  one  phase  of  the  infinity  of 
God's  beauty,  truth,  love,  or  justice;  to  seize  some 

259 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

idea  of  these,  and  to  work  it  out  for  the  sake  of 
man;  to  manifest  God  in  our  inward  and  outward 
being.  On  every  one  of  us  is  laid  this  weight  of 
duty.  At  first  the  feeling  of  it  is  vague;  it  seems 
to  come  in  dreams.  We  are  only  conscious  of  a 
pull  from  without  upon  us,  which  calls  us  to  labour 
for  others,  but  we  cannot  tell  whence  it  comes  nor 
whither  it  is  leading  us.  This  is  the  first  visionary 
consciousness  of  our  election ;  but  though  it  seems 
like  a  vision,  its  power,  its  attractiveness,  its  far-off 
call  never  quite  abandon  us.  We  hear  it  in  the 
silences ;  the  night  is  full  of  it»  Nature  seems  to 
speak  it.  God  is  calling  His  child.  "Find  out," 
He  cries,  "the  work  I  have  given  you  to  do. 
Believe  that  I  have  called  you."  Then  we  are  like 
David  among  the  sheepfolds.  There  is  a  time  of 
passiveness,  of  confusion,  uncertainty.  No  open- 
ing has  come  into  which  we  may  as  yet  carry  our 
energy.  No  voice  from  without  shapes  as  yet 
before  us  the  aspirations  of  our  heart,  or  confirms 
our  hope  that  we  have  a  work  to  do  for  man. 

Then  it  is  our  duty  to  be  content  and  wait ;  to  do, 
like  David,  steadily  what  lies  before  us,  though  it 
seem  the  veriest  commonplace.  Then  we  are  called 
upon  to  tend  the  flock  given  into  our  hands,  to  fulfil 
to  the  last  jot  and  tittle  the  daily  labour,  and  to 
believe  that,   in  its  doing,   God    is    educating   us, 

260 


THE   CONSECRAriON   OF  DAVID 

teaching  and  preparing  us  for  the  work  of  life.  If 
we  are  steady  in  that,  and  in  our  faith,  then  the 
time  will  come  when  from  without  a  new  event  will 
break  into  our  life,  confirm  our  hopes,  give  shape  to 
our  aspiration;  until,  at  last,  the  idea  of  what  we 
are  born  to  do  will  dawn  upon  us  and  irradiate  our 
sky.  We  are  anointed  in  that  hour  to  be  king  over 
ourselves,  over  our  transient  desires,  our  appetites, 
our  bare  ambitions,  and  over  all  allurements  from 
the  world  to  be  false  to  God  and  man.  We  are 
anointed,  as  David  was,  to  do  a  work  for  our  coun- 
try, for  our  society ;  to  sacrifice  ourselves,  in  labour, 
for  the  race  to  which  we  belong.  As  yet  we  do 
not  see  how  to  do  it,  but  we  are  sure  that,  if  we 
keep  our  eyes  open,  the  path  will  be  disclosed  in 
which  we  have  to  walk.  The  idea  is  enough  for  us 
at  present.  Let  us  become  accustomed  to  it,  live 
inwardly  in  it,  honour  and  cherish  it,  swear  to  be 
faithful  to  it  for  life  and  death. 

Alas,  this  wearies  some  of  us.  It  takes  us  away 
from  pleasures,  it  bids  us  curb  our  passions,  it  over- 
whelms us  with  a  weight  of  duty  to  others  which 
interferes  with  our  desire  to  live  for  ourselves. 
Then  we  throw  it  away,  trample  on  the  pearls  like 
swine,  and,  losing  for  a  long  time  our  souls,  find 
only  the  woeful  world  of  self.  But  we  are  not  left 
alone  by  our  Father.     It  is  not  very  long  before 

261 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

that  which  once  came  as  a  call  returns  as  a  chastise- 
ment; and  in  misery  of  loneliness  within,  in  self- 
horror,  sometimes  in  desperate  rebellion,  and  finally 
in  agony  of  repentance,  we  are  forced  to  take  up 
the  work  we  cast  aside  ' —  forced,  if  not  here,  then 
in  the  world  to  come.  Whatever  we  suffer,  God's 
pertinacity  will  not  let  us  go.  We  must  do  our 
duty  at  last. 

But  if,  accepting  the  call,  we  say,  "  I  am  chosen ; 
I  will  do,  God  helping  me,  that  for  which  I  was 
chosen;  I  will  nourish  the  thought  of  it  within, 
till  the  day  disclose  how  I  shall  shape  it  in  work  " 
—  then,  all  our  life  is  changed.  We  go  back,  as 
yet,  to  our  daily  toil ;  but  it  is  with  a  new  uplifting 
impulse  which  transfigures  the  commonplace.  The 
thought  that  God  has  dedicated  us  burns  and  glows 
within  us.  Our  soul  lives  on  the  idea  as  the  body 
on  bread ;  and  every  day  grows  stronger,  fitter  for 
the  coming  work.  The  present  is  much,  the  future 
is  more;  and  half  the  dignity  of  man,  half  the  glory 
of  the  soul,  consists  in  living  for  the  future  in  the 
present. 

This  then  was  the  mighty  spiritual  power  which 
David  possessed,  and  which  possessed  him.  It  is 
ours  as  much  as  his,  if  we  care  to  have  it.  And 
when  we  have  it,  it  works  many  good  things  in  the 
youthful  heart.      First,   it  steadies  life.     Drifting 

262 


THE   CONSECRATION  OF  DAVID 

and  dreaming,  while  the  soul  is,  like  the  dove  of 
Noah,  searching  over  the  deep  waters  of  life  where 
to  rest,  is  well  enough  for  a  time.  But  we  cannot 
dream  and  drift  all  our  days;  and  we  cease  to  dream 
when  we  believe  that  God  has  chosen  us  for  a  work 
special  to  our  hand.  We  may  not  yet  see  the  path 
on  which  we  are  to  go :  but  we  know  there  is  a  path 
which  will  be  shown  to  us.  And  the  knowledge 
steadies  us.  We  have  to  prepare  for  the  race  or 
the  battle;  to  harmonise  the  inward  powers;  to  knit 
them  into  strength ;  to  accustom  them  to  work  and 
to  the  shaping  of  thought  —  so  that  when  the  path 
does  open,  and  the  call  comes,  we  and  all  within 
us  may  be  like  well-trained  racers  waiting  eagerly 
for  the  summons.  Life  becomes  graver,  though 
not  less  happy;  and  the  gravity  of  what  lies  before 
us  does-  not  allow  us  to  drift  any  more,  like  an 
oarless  boat  upon  mid-ocean.  And  our  dreams! 
What  is  noble  in  them  we  do  not  abandon.  We 
shape  it  into  clear  thought.  "  I  will  get  the  vague- 
ness out  of  the  matter,"  we  say;  "and  when  the 
thing  is  shaped,  if  it  be  worth  anything,  I  '11  get 
it  into  act;  I  must  work  the  works  of  Him  that 
sent  me,  while  it  is  day."  Yes;  steadiness,  self- 
education,  these  come  out  of  such  a  faith. 

Secondly,  to  have  such  an  idea  within  us,  to  live 
by  its  ambrosial  food  in  the  present,  fills  us  with 

263 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

that  imaginative  passion  of  the  future,  which,  when 
it  is  employed  on  things  to  be  done  for  love  of  man 
and  God,  most  ennobles  the  soul  in  its  pursuit  of 
good.  Losing  ourselves  in  constantly  forming  and 
re-forming  plans  and  acts  which  may  help  and  save 
our  fellows,  we  are  freed  from  thinking  of  ourselves ; 
and  into  our  self-delivered  heart,  now  ready  to 
receive,  the  whole  full  tide  of  God  and  of  Man  is 
poured.  God  lives  in  us  because  we  are  not  living 
in  ourselves.  Our  soul  is  peopled  with  humanity. 
We  do  not  know  one  moment  of  loneliness.  All 
our  thoughts  are  carried  outside  of  ourselves :  for  the 
idea,  whose  forms  we  imagine,  is  in  God  and  Man 
and  Nature,  and  in  us,  because  we  are  in  them  and 
not  in  ourselves.  Then,  also,  that  part  of  the  power 
of  the  present  which  tends  to  enslave  a  man  has  no 
dominion  over  us,  because  our  highest  interest  on 
earth  is  in  the  future  of  mankind.  Our  work  is  to 
minister  to  the  progress  of  humanity  into  union 
with  God.  The  present  then  is  of  value,  not  for 
itself  (in  which  lies  its  tyranny),  but  for  the  sake 
of  the  future,  in  which  lie  its  glory,  its  impulse, 
and  its  use. 

Moreover,  in  a  soul  so  filled  and  so  employed, 
there  is  no  room  for  that  idleness  of  the  spirit  which 
flings  open  all  the  doors  of  the  soul  to  evil  thoughts. 
We  are  kept  pure ;  and  we  are  kept  apart  from  the 

264 


THE   CONSECRATION  OF  DAVID 

world.  Should  we  give  way  for  a  time  to  impure 
thought;  if  we  are  led  away  by  the  pride  of  life  and 
the  lust  of  the  eye  and  the  greed  of  wealth  —  we  feel 
the  nobleness  of  the  idea  paling  within  us  or  we 
dread  to  lose  it  altogether.  "God  keep  me  from 
all  wrong  and  folly,"  we  cry.  "What  if  I  should 
be  unfit  when  the  time  comes  to  fulfil  my  Master's 
thought  for  me,  to  do  His  work  !  "  Yes,  the  faith 
that  we  are  chosen  by  God  to  reveal  a  part  of  Him- 
self to  the  world,  and  to  labour  in  that,  for  the  sake 
of  our  fellow  men,  keeps  us  unworldly,  keeps  us 
pure.  There  is  nothing  which  has  greater  power 
over  the  life  of  youth  and  manhood. 

Lastly,  we  see  for  ourselves  that  such  a  faith 
does  for  the  young  the  greatest  thing  that  can  be 
done  for  life :  it  links  us  fast  to  God,  it  links  us 
fast  to  Man.  The  two  most  glorious  beings  in  the 
universe,  whom  if  we  felt  and  loved  with  all  our 
heart,  we  should  never  think  of  ourselves  —  God 
and  Man  —  are  the  masters,  the  lovers  of  our  soul : 
Man  for  whom  we  live,  God  in  whom  Man  lives  and 
breathes,  and  in  whom,  finally,  he  shall  be  perfect. 
In  these  two  immensities,  one  of  which  is  contained 
in  the  other,  our  little  existence,  which  yet  is  infi- 
nite, is  bound  up.  To  feel  that  truth  is  to  glorify 
every  moment  of  our  being.  It  was  the  truth  which 
Jesus,  our  Master,  felt,  and  it  made  His  sorrowful 

265 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

life  at  root  a  joyful  one.  It  irradiated  with  celes- 
tial light  every  step  of  the  thorny  path  to  the  cross. 
The  whole  heaven  and  earth  on  which  His  dying 
eyes  looked  shone  glorious  in  its  summer  radiance, 
as  He  gave  up  the  ghost. 

Great  then  is  the  power  of  a  divine  thought  in 
the  soul,  the  thought  that  we  are  chosen  to  mani- 
fest God  and  to  vv^ork  for  man  —  great  not  only  for 
youth,  but  for  all  life.  By  it  unity  is  given  to  life. 
The  glory  that  shone  around  our  youth  before  we 
entered  into  work  is  the  same  glory  which  shines 
around  our  dying  hour. 


266 


ELIJAH 


I 

ELIJAH   ON   CARMEL 

"  And  Elijah  cafne  unto  all  the  people  and  said,  How  long 
halt  ye  between  two  opitiiojis  ?  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow 
him:  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him.  And  the  people  an- 
swered him  not  a  zvordP 

I  Kings  xviii.  21. 

ELIJAH  is  as  much  an  historical  personage  as 
Ahab.  He  truly  lived  and  worked ;  and  he 
embodied  the  strife  between  Jehovah  and  Baal. 
But  as  time  went  on,  and  the  majesty,  force,  and 
wildness  of  his  character  seized  on  the  imagination 
of  the  Jewish  people,  legend  and  miracle  collected 
round  his  figure,  and  the  historical  elements  are 
sometimes  hidden  by  the  embroidery.  But  this  is 
clear  —  that  we  have  in  this  story  of  Elijah  the 
record  of  the  actual  struggle  which  went  on  in 
Israel  for  at  least  fifty  years  between  monotheism 
and  idolatry,  between  puritanism  and  immorality, 
between  the  individual  conscience  and  a  despot- 
ism, between  nationalism  and   foreign    influences. 

269 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Politically,  socially,  morally,  and  religiously  Elijah 
represented  and  concentrated  this  struggle,  and  we 
see  it  here,  in  the  book  of  Kings,  drawn  for  us 
in  the  form  in  which  men  a  generation  or  two  later 
than  the  events  looked  back  upon  it. 

Criticism  has,  however,  extended  its  doubts  too 
far.  There  is  no  reason  for  disbelieving  the  whole 
of  the  story  of  the  meeting  between  the  prophets  of 
Baal  and  Elijah  on  Mount  Carmel,  though  we  must 
reject  certain  portions  of  that  story.  The  main 
elements  of  the  tale  are  quite  in  character  with 
other  Eastern  stories.  Nor  is  there  any  reason  to 
doubt  that  Eljiah,  suddenly  dashed  with  despond- 
ency, and  his  life  in  danger,  fled  across  Judah  to 
Horeb;  a  journey  he  could  easily  accomplish  in 
the  twelfth  part  of  forty  days,  and  saw  the  vis- 
ion recorded  in  the  text.  It  is  a  vision  such  as 
Mohammed  might  have  had.  There  is  nothing 
unreal  about  it.  It  is  in  his  character,  and  the 
scenery  of  it  belongs  to  the  desert  mountains. 
The  prophet's  own  soul,  inspired  by  the  God  within 
him,  shaped  it  in  his  imagination. 

The  two  great  pictures  of  him  which  we  possess 
in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  chapters  of  the 
first  Book  of  Kings  are  bound  up  with  two  historic 
mountains,  the  Mount  of  Carmel  and  of  Horeb,  and 
Elijah  appears  upon  them  in  two  phases,  sharply 

270 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

contrasted,  of  his  character.  He  stands  on  Horeb 
alone,  without  faith  in  God  or  in  himself,  lost  in 
depression;  he  stands  on  the  Mount  of  Carmel, 
encompassed  by  all  the  people  of  Israel,  thrilled 
and  burning  with  faith  in  God,  and  in  an  hour  of 
exultation.  It  is  a  great  contrast,  but  it  is  in  the 
character  of  the  man.  Temperament,  outward  cir- 
cumstances, impulse,  the  sense  of  his  own  activity, 
had  too  much  power  over  him.  His  soul  was  not 
the  absolute  master  of  his  life.  Great  then,  but 
not  of  the  greatest;  powerful  one  day,  powerless 
another;  unequal;  losing  self  in  noble  passion,  but 
with  a  self  which  had  to  be  lost,  and  which,  when 
the  passion  was  over,  was  found  again.  This 
was  the  mingled  character,  weak  and  strong  by 
turns.  The  weaker  man  we  shall  see  on  Horeb, 
and  compare  with  a  truly  strong  man.  The  stronger 
man  in  Elijah  is  now  our  subject. 

We  see  him  stand  here,  in  his  full  strength,  on 
Carmel,  at  a  great  crisis  in  the  fate  of  Israel.  To 
that  crisis  he  was  equal;  nay,  in  it  he  stood  the 
first.  By  might  of  character  he  was  then  the 
monarch  of  all  Israel;  by  the  same  might  he  swept 
into  agreement  with  himself  all  the  wavering,  all 
the  indifferent,  all  the  worldly-minded.  Against 
him  stood  the  court,  the  weak  king,  the  cruel  and 
masculine  queen,  the  whole  body  of  the  priesthood 

271 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

of  the  Baal,  the  whole  of  the  foreign  and  idolatrous 
tribe  that  had  invaded  the  religion  of  Jehovah. 
That  religion  was  often  fierce  and  ruthless,  but  it 
was  not  foul.  It  held  to  two  great  principles  of 
the  deepest  importance  for  the  progress  of  the 
world.  It  held  to  the  unity  of  God,  and  it  held  to 
justice  and  purity  as  the  necessities  for  His  wor- 
ship. Both  these  principles  were  traversed  by  the 
worship  of  Baal  and  Astarte.  On  one  side,  then, 
was  the  crowd  and  the  court,  on  the  other  only 
one  man.  But  lonely  as  he  was,  so  great  was  his 
thought,  and  so  grand  his  character,  that  Ahab 
trembled  in  his  palace  when  he  thought  upon 
Elijah,  and  Jezebel  heard  at  night  his  voice,  cry- 
ing aloud  her  doom. 

At  last,  driven  by  the  drought  and  famine,  these 
two  forces  met;  and  Elijah  chose  the  place  of  meet- 
ing on  Mount  Carmel,  not  far  from  Jezreel,  where, 
on  the  plain  below,  the  River  Kishon  flowed;  and 
where,  among  the  palms,  the  palace  of  Ahab  and  the 
temple  of  Baal  gleamed  in  the  pitiless  light.  To 
that  place  he  summoned  the  priests  of  the  idolatry 
to  decide  the  God  whom  Israel  should  worship.  It 
was  a  stage  worthy  of  this  great  drama,  a  grassy 
stage  like  that  of  the  times  of  old.  There  was  still 
a  green  plain  left  high  up  on  Carmel,  close  beneath 
the  Rock  of  Sacrifice,  that  crowned  the  eastern  sum- 

272 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

mit  of  the  mountain.  The  grass  was  cool,  still  wet 
with  the  morning  dews;  and  here  at  least  green,  for 
it  was  washed  by  the  fountain  source  whose  waters 
the  longest  drought  cannot  exhaust.  The  crowd  of 
the  people  stood  among  flowers;  they  saw  the  blue 
Mediterranean  sparkle  in  the  distance  and  to  the 
east,  inland,  over  groves  and  glades  of  wood  and 
waving  fields  the  great  plain  which  spread  away 
towards  the  lake  of  Galilee.  Its  verdant  expanse, 
now  grey  in  the  withering  heat,  was  marked  at 
other  times  by  the  blue  and  winding  ribbon  of  the 
torrent  of  Kishon;  but  now  Elijah  saw  only  its 
river-bed,  a  white  network  of  sand  and  stones,  like 
molten  silver  in  the  sun.  Below  were  the  walls 
and  gates  of  Jezreel,  whence  the  people,  pouring 
forth  that  quiet  morn,  had  climbed  the  rough  paths 
through  the  woods  of  Carmel,  till  they  reached  the 
grassy  amphitheatre.  There  they  waited  all  the 
day ;  there  the  prophets  of  Baal,  four  hundred  and 
fifty,  in  barbaric  garments,  had  built  their  altar, 
offered  their  sacrifice,  and  from  morn  till  evening 
called  upon  their  God,  leaping  and  dancing  and 
cutting  themselves  with  knives.  Again  and  again 
the  fruitless  scream  cleft  the  sky:  "O  Baal,  hear 
us."     There  was  no  voice  nor  any  that  regarded. 

And  over  against  them  stood  Elijah,  one  man, 
alone,   in  proud  dignity,   the  wild  prophet  of   the 
i8  273 


THE  OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

wilderness,  clad  in  the  rough  sheepskin  mantle,  his 
dark  hair  on  his  shoulders,  prayer  and  passion  in 
his  eyes,  clothed  with  wrath  and  faith,  and  silent 
hour  after  hour;  until  at  last  the  irony  and  scorn 
and  fierceness  of  his  soul  broke  forth,  and  he 
mocked  the  priests  —  the  precursor  of  many  a  wild 
enthusiast  whose  savage  contempt  of  idolatry  was 
as  great  as  his  faith  in  God,  when  he  was  asked  to 
sacrifice  to  the  gods  of  Rome.  "Cry  aloud,"  he 
shouted  while  all  the  people  heard  and  the  rocks 
rang  —  '^  Cry  aloud,  for  he  is  a  god ;  either  he  is 
talking,  or  he  is  pursuing,  or  he  is  in  a  journey,  or 
peradventure  he  sleepeth,  and  must  be  awaked." 

It  was  the  battlefield  of  two  religions,  and  Elijah 
concentrated  the  struggle  in  the  first  words  that  fell 
from  his  lips,  words  marked  as  much  by  his  stormy 
contempt  as  by  his  religious  passion;  words  that 
carry  their  impassioned  appeal  to  us :  "  How  long 
halt  ye  between  two  opinions.-*  If  the  Lord  be 
God,  follow  Him,  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him." 
And  they  answered  him  never  a  word. 

Years  ago,  I  applied  the  phrase  to  the  great 
national  and  world-wide  questions  which  from  time 
to  time  take  form  before  mankind,  and  sift  the  just 
from  the  unjust,  the  followers  of  the  false  gods  of  the 
world  from  the  followers  of  the  God  whose  nature  is 
righteousness.     Questions  of  that  kind  lay  before 

274 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

US  then;  questions  of  that  kind  lie  before  us  now; 
questions  of  justice,  of  pity,  of  the  rights  and  duties 
of  the  human  race,  as  against  the  rights  which,  made 
by  unjust  laws,  are  injuring  mankind.  I  will  not 
mark  them  here  by  name,  but  the  time  is  coming 
fast  when  the  great  mass  of  those  merely  indiffer- 
ent to  these  questions ;  who  stand  apart  in  silence 
like  the  people  of  Israel,  shutting  their  ears  in 
wealth  or  culture,  in  money-getting,  in  idleness  or 
vice;  men  in  all  classes  of  society  from  the  top  to 
the  bottom,  who  say :  "  What  are  these  questions  to 
us  ?  let  them  go,  but  let  us  get  on ;  let  us  live  our 
own  life,"  will  be  forced  out  of  their  isolated  indif- 
ference by  the  cry  —  perhaps  made  by  some  Elijah 
in  a  great  national  crisis;  perhaps  shaped  into  voice 
by  some  series  of  events  coming  to  their  climax  — 
"How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions?  Come 
forth  into  the  battle ;  show  your  hand ;  let  us  know 
of  what  you  are  made.  Choose  the  side  of  injus- 
tice or  justice,  of  the  comfortable  or  the  martyr. 
Stand  clear  with  those  who  cling  with  passion  to 
their  own  goods,  or  with  those  who  sacrifice  them 
for  the  good  of  their  neighbour.  Declare  for  Baal 
or  declare  for  God."  It  will  not  do  then  to  answer 
never  a  word.  You  must  answer.  The  whirlwind 
of  events  will  suck  you  in.  Take  care  that  you  be 
ready  to  choose,   and  to  rightly  choose;  for  surer 

275 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

than  the  eternal  heaven  itself  is  the  victory  of  jus- 
tice over  oppression,  of  pity  over  hardheartedness, 
of  truth  over  the  lies  which  pass  for  truth  in  this 
whited  sepulchre  which  we  think  a  temple,  and 
call  society. 

And  when  the  day  comes,  the  priests  of  Baal, 
those  who  have  worshipped  for  themselves  the  false 
gods  of  self-aggrandisement  and  pride,  of  luxury, 
sloth  and  immorality  —  wherever  they  are,  in  the 
lower  or  the  upper  ranges  of  society  —  for  that 
worship  is  a  temper  of  the  soul  —  will  cry  in  vain, 
in  that  time  of  overturning  and  decision,  on  their 
gods ;  leaping  on  the  altars  they  have  made,  crying 
and  cutting  themselves  in  their  despair.  There 
will  be  no  voice,   nor  any  that  regardeth  them. 

It  is  the  same  in  the  individual  soul.  Long  days 
pass  by,  during  which  we  are  indifferent  to  the 
rights  of  the  conscience  or  the  calls  of  the  spirit. 
All  we  care  for  are  the  things  which  belong  to  our 
advance,  our  wealth  or  our  position.  If  righteous- 
ness or  justice  or  pity  interfere  with  these  things, 
so  much  the  worse  for  them.  We  bid  them  stand 
aside,  or  we  persuade  ourselves  that  we  are  right 
because  law  is  on  our  side.  Or  we  call  only  for 
knowledge,  or  for  beauty;  and  when  a  diviner 
thought  or  a  more  ideal  emotion  breathes  upon  us 
from  another  world,  we  shake  ourselves  loose  from 

276 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

it.  "Let  the  spiritual  sleep,"  we  say.  "It  spoils 
the  dry  light  in  which  we  think,  it  troubles  the 
sensuous  beauty  in  which  we  take  our  joy.  We 
do  not  join  with  Baal,  but  keep  good  friends  with 
him."  We  listen  to  Elijah,  and  smile,  and  answer 
him  never  a  word.  "  Why  should  we  choose,  and 
trouble  ourselves.?  Our  path  runs  between  both; 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with  either  God  or  Baal." 

But  the  hour  will  come  when  we  shall  be  forced 
out  of  our  indifference,  when,  at  some  crisis  of  our 
life,  conscience  storms  in  upon  our  placid  "Let 
alone,"  and  we  are  compelled  to  choose  between 
justice  and  injustice,  between  thoughtlessness  and 
loving  kindness;  when  the  doing  of  right  or  the 
doing  of  wrong,  and  that  decidedly,  in  the  face  of 
the  world,  is  demanded  of  us  by  events ;  when,  in 
another  sphere,  some  overwhelming  blow  suddenly 
delivered  by  what  we  call  fate,  some  desperate  trial 
in  which  we  are  left  all  alone,  or  some  ruin  com- 
ing on  our  house  of  life,  forces  us  to  face  the  great 
spiritual  questions :  Whether  there  be  a  God  who 
cares  for  us ;  or  a  Saviour  who  will  release  us  from 
the  weight  of  sin;  or  an  immortal  life  in  which  we 
shall  meet  again  the  love  whose  loss  has  beaten  us 
into  the  depths  of  desolation. 

Then  we  must  answer,  then  we  must  take  our 
side.     "  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions .?  " 

277 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

rings  then  like  a  storm-bell,  incessantly  clanging 
in  our  ears.  Conscience  will  be  answered.  The 
spirit  rises  like  Elijah  in  our  heart,  demanding 
that  it  be  satisfied.  We  look  to  the  false  gods  of 
the  world,  with  whom  we  were  such  good  friends. 
They  are  useless  in  that  hour.  We  look  to  Elijah, 
proclaiming  the  Lord  of  Righteousness.  We  have 
scarcely  the  heart  to  join  him.  Our  indifference 
has  been  so  deep  and  long,  that  even  in  our  despair 
we  have  no  force  to  choose.  Then  God  in  us  drives 
us  deeper  and  deeper,  forces  and  forces  our  hand, 
heaps  demand  upon  demand,  gives  conscience  a 
stronger  and  a  more  imperious  voice;  sorrow  and 
confusion  strip  us  naked.  Keener  and  keener  rises 
in  us  the  wail  of  the  spirit,  till  we  can  bear  it  no 
longer;  till,  knowing  our  weakness,  want  and  sin, 
we  are  flung  like  shipwrecked  men  upon  the  shores 
of  God,  and,  crying,  "  I  am  lost ;  save  me,  my 
Father,"  find  our  true  life  at  last  in  union  with 
righteousness  and  love.  But  we  find  it,  not  in  sub- 
mission to  the  threatening  of  Elijah,  but  in  the 
following  of  the  tenderness  of  Jesus.  It  is  not  the 
avenging  fire  of  the  Lord  that  falls  on  our  souls, 
but  the  dew  of  the  love  of  God  the  Father. 

Yet,  to  return  to  Elijah,  and  to  the  scene  from 
which  we  have  wandered,  no  figure  can  be  more 
grand  than  he  standing  there  alone,  above  the  wild 

278 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

dance  and  crying  of  the  priests  of  Baal!  All  the 
desert  majesty  is  upon  his  face;  all  the  glory  of  the 
great  conception  of  one  God,  of  one  righteous- 
ness, is  shining  in  his  eyes;  all  the  power  of  that 
thought,  and  of  being  the  servant  of  its  law,  speaks 
in  his  iron  attitude,  even  in  his  scornful  speech  — 
one  against  the  world,  and  in  mortal  danger.  There 
are  few  who  have  the  steady  inward  power  to  take 
and  keep  that  post.  It  needs  courage,  not  only 
physical  but  moral;  it  needs  determined  will;  it 
needs  intense  conviction  of  the  right  of  that  for 
which  the  stand  is  made;  it  needs  to  have  lived  a 
blameless  life.  All  these  things  belonged  to  Elijah, 
and  their  power  in  him  made  him  majestic.  Every 
soul  that  saw  him  that  day,  erect  upon  the  rock, 
felt  the  strength  and  awe  of  his  solitude  and  soli- 
tary faith  in  God  flow  like  a  river  from  him  into 
their  hearts.  Every  soul  felt  the  baseness,  in 
comparison  with  his  stern  manhood,  of  the  court  of 
Ahab;  the  noble  contrast  between  his  life  and  the 
luxury  of  the  city,  the  indifference  of  the  people, 
the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  Every  one 
knew  that  there  was  in  him  something  higher  than 
earthly  power;  that  the  soul  of  man  was  here 
greater  than  the  whole  world.  Each  man,  as  the 
long  hours  of  the  day  drew  on,  looked,  knew  that 
God  was  there;   and  said  within  his  heart,   "God 

279 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

sitteth  above  the  waterfloods,  God  remaineth  King 
for  ever. " 

Yes,  it  was  not  only  human  courage,  will,  and 
goodness  that  gave  Elijah  majesty.  It  was  his 
faith  in  God.  The  man  was  possessed  with  God; 
behind  him  stood  One  whom  none  might  see,  but 
from  whom  streamed  into  His  servant  a  spir-.tual 
might  and  inspiration.  Elijah  felt  it;  he  knew 
that  God  had  seized  him,  and  he  held  to  that  faith 
with  an  intensity  which  made  the  man  seem  trans- 
figured. This  was  the  deep  root  of  his  courage,  of 
his  resolute  will,  of  his  scorn  of  all  that  man  could 
do  unto  him,  of  the  certainty  which  made  him  mock 
his  foes,  and  call  on  all  the  folk  of  Israel  to  watch 
the  falling  of  the  fire  before  it  fell.  This,  too,  was 
the  root  of  his  calm ;  all  the  day  long  he  waited, 
"like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas,  unremoved  " ;  silent  till 
the  end;  wrapt  in  his  mantle,  wrapt  in  faith;  at 
peace  in  the  midst  of  turbulence.  Yet  within  him, 
born  too  of  faith  in  God  and  hatred  of  oppression, 
of  fierce  contempt  of  evil,  and  love  of  his  mighty 
thought  that  God  was  one  and  undivided  —  there 
was  also  that  without  which  nothing  great  in  morals, 
nothing  sublime  in  spiritual  life,  is  ever  wrought 
—  passion  at  white  heat;  not  bursting  like  that  of 
the  priests  of  Baal  into  wild  cries,  fanatic  self- 
torture  and  maddened  dancing,  but  self-restrained 

280 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

and  ruled,  cool  at  its  centre,  mastered  by  will, 
inspired  by  a  cause  which  was  not  in  its  origin  his 
own,  exalted  by  an  idea  the  source  of  which  was 
beyond  himself  in  God.  It  was  this  which  carried 
him  through  that  day  of  long  endurance,  which 
broke  forth  at  last  in  his  rushing  appeal,  which 
sounds  in  his  solemn  prayer,  and  which,  when  the 
fire  fell,  is  heard  at  last  in  his  cruel  cry,  as  the 
savagery  of  the  desert  seized  upon  the  man,  and  he 
flung  aside  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  for  the  sword 
of  vengeance  — "Take  the  prophets  of  Baal,"  he 
cried;    "let  not  one  of  them  escape." 

This  was  the  man  —  great,  but  not  of  the  first 
greatness;  mighty  in  strength,  but  falling  into  the 
weakness  of  Horeb,  when  the  noble  hour  was  past; 
having  a  moral  majesty  in  opposition  to  evil,  but, 
when  evil  was  conquered,  reverting  to  cruelty; 
splendid  in  faith,  self -forgetful  in  defence  of  right- 
eousness, but  losing  faith,  and  thinking  too  much 
of  himself,  in  the  hour  of  reaction. 

If  ever  the  hour  come  when  you  stand  alone  with 
God  against  all  your  society,  call  to  your  side  the 
powers  that  Elijah  had,  and  ask  them  to  arm  you 
for  the  fray;  gather  your  courage  together  and  con- 
firm it  with  the  thought  of  God  and  the  cause  of 
man  for  which  you  fight.  Let  your  will  be  steady 
and  unmoved;  not  driven  by  impulse,  but  fixed  firm 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

on  principles;  guided  by  worthy  thoughts,  thoughts 
of  which  you  are  so  deeply  convinced  that  to  part 
from  them  or  betray  would  seem  to  you  the  death 
of  soul  and  body.  And,  because  these  principles 
must  seem  to  you  righteous,  live  the  blameless 
life,  so  that  when  you  fight  for  them  you  may  feel 
that  you  are  worthy  to  buckle  on  their  sword  and 
to  wield  it  in  the  battle  day.  Nay,  live  so  always, 
that  when  the  hour  comes  in  which  you  shall  stand 
alone,  men  may  naturally  claim  you  as  God's  cham- 
pion against  wrong.  Nor  can  you  wage  your  war- 
fare steadily,  joyously,  unless  you  have  faith  in 
God,  in  whom  the  right  and  loving  thing  must 
always  triumph;  who,  if  you  must  die  with  your 
work  undone,  is  sure  to  continue  your  life  with 
Him,  and  to  take  care  that  your  work  will  be  con- 
tinued upon  earth.  It  is  a  mighty  power  a  man 
has  when  he  believes  that  God  is  with  him.  He  is 
lord  then  of  all  the  world  and  of  himself;  there 
is  that  behind  his  will  which  gives  it  steadiness; 
there  is  that  behind  his  courage  which  gives  it  the 
calm  which  is  the  guard  of  courage.  He  can  endure 
as  well  as  fight  through  the  long  day  of  life;  for 
he  will  have  that  most  noble  passion,  which  does 
not  flare  but  burns  with  a  heart  of  unquenchable 
fire  —  the  love  of  God  which,  in  a  great  hour  of 
decision,  lifts  him  into  the  conquest  of  the  world; 

282 


ELIJAH  ON  CARMEL 

but  which  now,  in  better  days  than  those  of  Elijah, 
does  not,  when  the  crisis  is  over,  cry  against  the 
conquered,  "Slay  them  at  the  brook  of  Kishon," 
but  like  Jesus,  "Their  sins  are  forgiven;  let  them 
sin  no  more."  This  is  the  Christian  warrior  —  the 
heroism  of  Elijah,  in  loneliness,  for  God;  the  love 
of  Jesus,  in  victory,  for  man. 


283 


II 

ELIJAH    ON   HOREB 

"  Aud  Elijah  went  to  Horeb,  the  motmt  of  God.  And  he 
came  thither  to  a  cave,  and  lodged  there  ;  and  behold  the  word 
of  the  Lord  came  to  hitn,  and  He  said  unto  him,  What  doest 
thou  here,  Elijah  ?  And  he  said,  I  have  been  very  jealous  for 
the  Lord  God  of  Hosts :  for  the  children  of  Israel  have  for- 
saken Thy  covenant,  thrown  down  Thy  altars,  and  slain  Thy 
prophets  with  the  sword :  and  I,  even  I  07ily,  am  left ;  and 
they  seek  my  life,  to  take  it  aivay.  And  he  said.  Go  forth  and 
stand  on  the  mount  before  the  Lord.  And  behold  the  Lord 
passed  by  ;  and  a  great  and  strong  wind  rent  the  mountains, 
and  brake  i?i  pieces  the  rocks  before  the  Lord ;  but  the  Lord 
was  not  in  the  wind:  and  after  the  wind  an  earthquake ;  but 
the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake :  and  after  the  earthquake 
a  fire  ;  but  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  fire  :  and  after  the  fire 
a  still  small  voice.  And  it  was  so,  when  Elijah  heard  it,  that 
he  wrapped  his  face  in  his  mantle,  and  went  out,  and  stood 
in  the  entering  in  of  the  cave''' 

I  Kings  xix.  9-13. 

WE  have  seen  Elijah  in  his  glory  on  Mount 
Carmel;    we   shall   now   see   him    in    the 
hour  of  his  gloom ;  we  have  seen  him  in  his  impas- 

28s 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

sioned  action;  we  shall  see  him  now  on  Mount 
Horeb  in  his  reaction.  Both  were  at  a  greater 
height  than  they  need  have  been.  The  same  work 
could  have  been  done,  and  done  better,  with  less 
violence.  But  it  is  not  our  business,  in  an  age 
where  there  is  but  little  expenditure  of  passion, 
either  of  noble  joy  or  of  wild  regret,  to  complain 
of  or  to  blame  it  in  Elijah.  I  only  say  that  it  is 
not  in  the  highest  type  of  character.  The  man 
less  led  by  impulse,  less  fond  of  denouncing,  less 
intemperate,  would  have  been  stronger  and  steadier 
in  will,  and  his  work  would  have  endured.  The 
man  who  cared  more  at  all  points  for  his  cause 
than  for  himself  would  not  have  allowed  his  reli- 
gious passion  to  pass  into  the  passion  of  a  political 
foe,  nor  spoilt  his  day's  work  by  the  slaughter  of 
the  priests.  The  man  whose  work  was  to  last,  and 
who  had  no  doubt  of  its  truth,  would  not,  for  so 
long  a  time,  have  despaired  of  God,  of  man,  of  his 
nation,  and  of  himself. 

He  had  risked  his  life  against  the  court  and  the 
idolatrous  queen;  he  had  slain,  in  his  passionate 
excitement,  the  priests  of  Baal,  and  on  his  head  the 
wrath  of  Jezebel  now  fell.  When  he  heard  her 
message  —  that  she  would  slay  him  instantly  —  the 
threat  grasped  his  heart  at  the  moment  when  his 
departing  violence  left  him  exhausted.     Fear  and 

286 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

deep  depression  seized  him.  He  fled  for  his  life 
into  the  wilderness,  and  prayed  that  he  might  die. 
"  It  is  enough;  now,  O  Lord,  take  away  my  life;  for 
I  am  not  better  than  my  fathers."  But  helped  by  a 
vision,  he  fled  further;  forty  days  in  wild  flight,  the 
story  goes  that  he  traversed  the  wilderness.  It  is  a 
strange,  sad,  human  episode. 

We  know  the  scenery  of  the  place  where  he  finally 
rested ;  of  Horeb,  the  mount  of  God,  the  summit  of 
which  was  called  the  Mount  of  Moses.  Beneath  his 
eyes,  as  he  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  lay 
the  vast  desert,  a  rough  and  stony  plain,  with  dry 
and  infrequent  herbage.  Infinite  silence,  infinite 
awe,  as  of  the  presence  of  an  eternal  God,  encom- 
passed him.  Near  at  hand  were  the  great  mountain 
walls  of  red  granite,  deep  hewn  valleys  below 
splintered  gorges ;  and  above,  the  naked  peaks  pierc- 
ing the  heaven,  in  which  the  stars  burned  in  depths 
even  more  vocal  of  infinitude  than  the  desert.  Tra- 
dition still  points  out,  as  tradition  chose,  the  small 
and  lonely  valley,  the  upland  level  under  the 
summit,  where  Elijah  rested.  One  cypress  tree 
stands  now  in  its  midst,  and  a  well  and  tank  are 
open  near  the  ruined  chapel  which  covers  the  rock 
in  which  the  cave  was  set.  It  is  one  of  the  silentest 
places  in  the  world,  as  hidden  as  it  is  silent.     The 

granite  cliffs  lap  it  round  on  all  sides  but  one;  that 

287 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

side  where  Eljiah  stood,  when,  in  the  dawn,  he  came 
forth  to  hear  the  voice  of  God. 

It  was  a  scenery  worthy  of  his  character  and  re- 
flecting it.  The  peaks  were  not  more  austere  or 
more  majestic  than  he.  The  granite  cliffs  were 
not  more  hard  and  unyielding  than  he  was  towards 
evil  kings  and  evil  priests.  The  speechless  desert, 
the  boundless  sky,  the  unity  of  solemn  impression 
made  by  both,  were  not  more  silent  and  more 
illimitable  than  his  thought  of  the  unity,  eternity, 
and  majesty  of  Jehovah.  The  wildness  of  the 
place,  its  savage  air,  its  aspect  of  apartness  from 
men,  were  not  more  wild  than  the  aspect  of  Elijah, 
not  more  isolated,  not  more  rude.  "Alone," 
"alone,"  "alone,"  thrice  he  repeats  that  word  about 
himself  in  this  chapter.  All  his  story  marks  his 
solitude.  He  is  seen  only  for  moments,  at  inter- 
vals, rushing  from  the  desert  to  take  part  in  human 
life;  and  then  snatched  away,  as  it  seemed,  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord.  His  figure  was  that  of  one  who 
lived  in  deserts.  Long  dark  shaggy  hair  streamed 
over  his  shoulders,  his  face  was  as  it  were  the  face 
of  a  lion,  and  his  feet  swift  as  a  stag.  A  rude 
cloak  of  sheepskin,  knit  round  his  loins  by  a  strip 
of  cowhide,  only  covered  him;  and  at  times  he 
rolled  it  up  and  smote  with  it,  or  girded  it  up  and 
ran,  or  wrapped,  as  here,  his  face  in  it.     Its  rough- 

288 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

ness  made  it  a  symbol  of  the  man ;  it  became  what 
his  sword  was  to  the  hero  of  romance  —  it  had  its 
owner's  personality;  it  carried  his  spirit  after 
death.  In  this  way  it  became  the  heritage  of 
Elisha,  and  made  him  recognised  as  the  successor 
of  Elijah.  Elijah  was  thus  the  very  impersonation 
of  the  wilderness,  of  the  place  where  now  he  stood. 
The  scenery  and  the  figure  were  not  two,  but  one. 
The  scenery  and  the  character  were  equally  at  one. 

History  repeats  itself,  and  Elijah  was  repeated  in 
John  the  Baptist.  He,  too,  was  of  the  desert,  and 
of  the  character  of  the  desert.  Isolated,  appearing 
at  intervals  out  of  the  solitudes  to  reprove  wicked 
kings  and  Pharisees;  dressed  like  Elijah;  dressed, 
too,  in  Elijah's  spirit,  austere,  unflinching  in  word 
and  thought,  the  denouncer  and  the  overthrower, 
the  wielder  of  the  axe  against  the  trees  that  brought 
forth  no  fruit,  the  preacher  of  a  fierce  righteousness 
—  John  spoke  also  midst  the  scenery  of  the  desert, 
standing  on  the  rough,  stone-strewn  plains  near 
Jordan,  where  only  the  dry  reed  rustled  in  the  wind, 
where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  dwelt  in  the  silence, 
where  the  voices  of  the  world  were  all  unheard. 

Both  stand  together,  mighty,  stern,  granite-hewn, 

and  the  manner  of  their  teaching   is   alike.      We 

hear  its  character  in  the  strong  wind  that  rent  the 

mountains,  in  the  earthquake  that  shook  down  the 

19  289 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

hard-hearted  cliffs,  in  the  fire  that  devoured,  and 
in  the  terror  that  came  on  the  wings  of  these  vast 
outbreaking  forces.  Elijah's  prophecy,  John's 
preaching,  burnt  up,  and  shattered,  and  made  trem- 
ble the  souls  of  men.  The  centuries  as  they  passed 
by  had  tamed  the  times,  and  John's  thunderstorm 
and  fire  did  not  destroy  the  bodies  of  men ;  but 
Elijah  practised  what  he  preached.  His  sword 
slew  the  priests  of  Baal,  his  hand  anointed  the  three 
great  avengers  of  the  God  of  Israel.  Whether  the 
story  of  what  he  heard  be  symbol  or  vision,  it  is  plain 
it  grew  out  of  and  imaged  the  character  and  deeds 
of  Elijah,  as  the  purging  fire  and  the  axe  of  which 
John  spoke  grew  out  of,  and  imaged,  his  character. 
It  is  a  manner  which  impresses  mankind,  as  the 
earthquake  and  the  hurricane  impress  them,  but  the 
question  is :  What  was  its  success,  how  did  it  work 
upon  men }  Was  its  result  equal  to  the  noise  it 
made  ? 

The  result  of  Elijah's  and  the  Baptist's  work  was, 
on  the  whole,  failure.  Their  characters  certainly 
lived,  and  became  powers  in  mankind;  but  the  aims 
they  strove  for  were  not  attained,  and  the  influence 
of  their  effort  died  away.  The  following  of  John 
fell  down  to  a  few  ascetics;  the  multitudes  that 
went  out  to  him  listened  to  him  and  forgot  his  call. 
Elijah's  work  seems  to  have  lived  only  in  Elisha, 

290 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

and  in  the  fierceness  of  the  persecution  he  encour- 
aged—  a  persecution  which  did  evil,  and  which 
was  as  transient  as  the  wind  and  fire  on  Horeb. 

The  result  on  the  men  themselves  is  equally 
failure.  This  passionate  and  raging  excitement 
suffers  its  own  reaction.  It  was  no  steady  flame ; 
it  flared,  then  fell  into  exhausted  ashes.  Nothing 
seems  higher  than  Elijah's  faith  on  Carmel,  nothing 
fiercer  than  his  slaughter  of  the  priests;  but  few 
things  are  more  despondent  than  his  cry  on  Horeb, 
few  things  more  melancholy  than  his  egotistic  view 
of  his  own  loneliness.  Nothing  seems  more  im- 
passioned in  faith  than  John's  first  preaching  to 
the  crowds  at  Jordan,  but  few  things  are  more  sad 
than  his  half-despairing  message  from  the  prison  to 
Jesus.  There  was  no  uniform  fervour,  no  quiet, 
unshaken  faith.  The  temper  of  the  denouncing 
prophet  is  not  the  temper  of  the  great  man,  of  the 
veteran  soldier,  of  the  leader. 

There  is  something  still  worse  than  failure  which 
befalls  this  type  of  teacher.  It  is  querulous  egotism. 
In  sincerely  great  men  like  Elijah  and  John,  who  feel 
their  nothingness  before  God,  the  egotism  has  its 
grandeur.  It  is  a  revelation  of  character,  and  when 
the  character  is  great,  we  are  even  grateful  for  it. 
But  still  we  feel  that  a  complaining  speech  like 
Elijah's  lowers  the  type,  though  it  may  not  lower 

291 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  man.  "I,  even  I  only,  am  left.  I  have  been 
very  jealous  for  the  Lord  God,  and  —  they  seek  my 
life  to  take  it  away."  Is  this,  we  ask,  the  voice 
which  thundered  on  Carmel,  which  met  Ahab,  and 
reproved  him  face  to  face  1  It  is  a  pity  and  a  wonder 
that  one  so  strong  when  beyond  himself,  should  be 
so  weak  when  within  himself.  Yet  the  weakness  is 
contained  in  the  strength,  for  the  strength  is  more 
violence  than  strength;  and  the  violence  and  the 
weakness  are  both  forms  of  egotism. 

We  seem,  as  we  study  the  character,  to  see  and 
hear  our  own  prophets  who  denounce  and  cry  and 
storm  in  the  name  of  justice  and  mercy;  our  relig- 
ious teachers  who  talk  of  hell,  and  of  God  as  if  He 
were  a  God  of  vengeance,  and  of  wicked  men  as  if 
they  had  no  good  in  them,  and  of  their  opponents 
as  if  all  their  work  were  bad ;  whose  only  way  of 
meeting  evil  is  to  abuse  it,  drag  it  forth,  and  call 
down  fire  from  heaven  upon  it.  We  seem  to  hear 
our  writers  who  spend  whole  books  in  calling  the 
world  accursed,  mostly  fools,  shams,  hypocrites,  and 
villains;  who  cannot  see  the  other  side  of  wrongs, 
or  the  goodness  by  which  all  evil  lives.  We  seem 
to  listen  to  the  social  reformers  who  would,  like  the 
wind  that  rent  the  rocks,  and  the  earthquake  and 
the  fire,  pass  over  the  whole  of  society  and  shatter 
it  to  pieces  without  the  slightest  power  in  them  to 

292 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

build  it  up  again ;  for  the  spirit  in  which  they  work, 
the  manner  of  speech  and  thought  to  which  they 
have  accustomed  themselves,  never  built  up  a  com- 
munity, and  never  could  build  it  up.  We  seem  to 
listen  to  many  a  father  of  a  family  and  many  a 
mother,  whose  method  of  training  their  children  to 
serve  God  and  man  is  the  method  of  the  storm  and 
the  fire,  who  drive  slaves  and  not  souls  to  God ;  who 
make  morality  into  a  religion,  who  are  unforgiving 
as  a  law  of  nature,  who  attach  to  each  infraction  of 
their  will  a  curse  or  a  punishment.  The  result 
of  it  all,  whether  in  religion,  in  politics,  in  reforming 
the  world,  in  family  life,  is  failure  —  dead  failure. 
Men  are  driven  away,  thrown  into  the  opposite 
camp,  irritated,  made  enemies  of  the  just  and  good 
thing,  when  it  is  recommended  in  that  fashion. 
Parents  are  disobeyed,  their  influence  for  good 
destroyed.  After  a  time,  justice  is  turned  into  in- 
justice, morality  is  injured,  love  is  replaced  by 
hatred.  The  wrath  of  man  works  not  the  righteous- 
ness of  God. 

Moreover,  all  this  evil  is  doubled  by  the  egotism 
of  such  teachers.  They  have  not,  for  the  most  part, 
the  rugged  truthfulness  or  the  wild  genius  of  Elijah 
or  John,  nor  the  force  of  their  intense  belief  in  God. 
The  only  intense  belief  they  have  is  in  themselves; 
and  when  misfortune  or  failure  or  the  world's  scorn 

293 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

comes  upon  them,  they  wail  and  complain  as  if  God 
Himself  and  humanity  were  destroyed  because  they 
are  injured.  "I,  even  I  only,  am  left,"  is  ever  on 
their  lips.  "  I  have  been  very  jealous  for  God  or 
for  man,  and  it  is  a  foul  shame  that  I  am  over- 
thrown; "  and  they  take  to  unbelief  in  God  or  abuse 
of  man,  and  call  themselves  neglected  prophets; 
having  neither  courage,  nor  courtesy,  nor  dignity; 
and,  by  their  want  of  both,  lowering  the  cause  or 
the  faith  they  began  to  preach. 

When  we  turn  to  Jesus  we  see  a  prophet  of 
another  type.  He  made  no  disturbance.  His  voice 
was  not  heard  denouncing  in  the  streets,  save  when 
He  spoke  against  the  cruel  hypocrite.  He  did  not 
abuse  sin,  He  forgave  it.  He  did  not  threaten  the 
wrongdoer,  He  told  him  that  he  was  a  child  of  God. 
His  God  was  one  not  of  vengeance,  but  of  unspeak- 
able love.  He  did  not  slay  men  but  saved  them. 
When  outward  power  rose  against  Him,  He  made 
no  forcible  resistance  to  it.  "  Do  what  you  will, "  He 
said,  "to  the  body,  but  my  soul  is  free."  When  in- 
ward evil  met  Him,  He  attacked  it  by  displaying  the 
opposite  good.  His  words  were  not  the  roaring 
wind,  the  shattering  earthquake,  and  the  devouring 
fire,  but  the  gentle  breeze,  and  the  refreshing  dew, 
and  the  still  small  voice  of  love.  It  was  not  the 
desolate  solitudes  of  Horeb  and  the  stony  plains  of 

294 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

Perea  in  which  he  preached  and  wherein  His  teach- 
ing was  symbolised,  but  in  the  garden  of  the  Jewish 
world,  by  the  blue  Lake  of  Galilee,  where  the  smiling 
corn-fields,  the  soft-eyed  flowers,  and  the  sweet 
meadows  made  the  loveliest  spot  in  Palestine.  No 
contrast  could  be  greater,  no  words  more  different 
from  those  of  Elijah  and  John,  than :  "  Come  unto 
me  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest." 

Yet,  where  John  and  Elijah  failed,  He  succeeded. 
That  tender  power  entered  like  a  monarch  into  the 
heart  of  the  human  race,  and  men  bowed  before  it  as 
corn  before  the  steady  wind  of  summer.  Sin  and 
wrong,  cruelty  and  injustice,  spiritual  misery  and 
hardness  of  heart,  evil  beliefs  and  superstitions, 
idolatry,  immorality,  and  luxury,  melted  before  it 
like  snow  from  a  mountain  side;  and  all  the  flowers 
of  goodness,  of  love,  faith,  hope,  and  joy,  sprang  up 
in  the  soul  of  man.  He  died;  worldly  success  was 
not  His  in  His  life;  but  the  vaster  power  was  His 
which  endures  in  the  soul, — the  true  success  of 
love;  eternal  in  the  reverence,  affection,  and  in- 
spiration of  mankind. 

Nor  was  the  personal  contrast  less  remarkable. 
There  is  not  one  trace  of  selfish  egotism  or  of  com- 
plaint of  men.  "  I,  even  I  only,  am  left "  was  im- 
possible on  the  lips  of  Jesus.     When  all  was  over  in 

295 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

this  world,  His  faith  in  God's  love  remained  the 
same  as  when  crowds  collected  round  His  first 
joyous  preaching  in  Galilee.  He  said  once  He  was 
alone,  but  not  yet  alone,  for  the  Father  was  with 
Him ;  and  concerning  those  who  left  Him  in  the 
hour  of  His  distress,  He  had  no  words  but  those 
of  love.  Though  He  was  slain  by  evil  men,  He 
believed  still  in  humanity.  He  had  His  hour  of 
despondency  like  Eljiah  and  John,  but  it  lasted  only 
an  hour;  and  He  passed  out  of  it  quiet,  faithful, 
collected,  supreme  over  temptation,  and  as  tender 
as  before,  without  one  thought  of  self :  only  of  the 
Father,  whose  cup  He  was  to  drink,  and  of  man,  for 
whom  He  was  going  to  die.  There  is  the  real 
strength,  there  the  abiding  power,  there  the  true 
majesty  of  man;  and  it  is  rooted  —  as  all  that  is 
noble  in  God  and  man  is  rooted  —  in  love ;  love 
so  deep  that  self  is  forgotten. 

There,  my  people,  is  your  power  hidden;  there, 
in  loving-kindness,  in  the  winning  way,  the  gentle 
word ;  in  pity  and  mercy,  in  belief  in  the  good  of 
man  and  in  soft  searching  for  it ;  in  forgiving  sin,  not 
in  denouncing  it ;  in  bearing,  believing,  hoping,  and 
enduring  all  things,  in  absence  of  self-thought  and 
self-glory,  in  making  excuse  for  men ;  in  never  know- 
ing whether  you  are  alone,  or  misunderstood,  or 
right  to  be  angry,  or  jealous  for  your  own  dignity  — 

296 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

because  you  are  so  rapt  in  the  love  of  the  Father 
and  of  men,  PI  is  children,  that  you  never  can  abide 
within  yourself  at  all.  The  storm  and  the  thunder 
pass  away,  the  earthquake  is  satisfied  at  last,  the 
fire  is  quenched;  but  the  sunshine  goes  on,  and  its 
soft  and  genial  powers  build  up  the  world  and  keep 
what  is  built  in  that  joy  of  being,  which  alone  is 
permanent.  The  spirit  of  Elijah  rises  and  falls, 
flows  and  ebbs,  and  is  at  last  dried  up;  but  the 
spirit  of  Jesus  is  a  steady  and  perennial  stream. 
Wrath  is  human,  love  is  divine;  wrath  is  weak 
against  sin,  but  tenderness  and  forgiving  are  its 
real  conquerors.  Anger  and  bluster,  the  storm  of 
denunciation,  the  earthquake  and  the  fire,  pass 
away :  the  Lord  is  not  in  them.  But  love  and  pity 
and  the  still  voice  of  gentleness  never  fail.  The 
might  of  God  is  in  them. 

Lastly,  I  will  make  this  meaning  I  have  given  to 
the  story  personal.  I  do  not  think  that  the  writer 
was  conscious  of  that  meaning  when  he  made  the 
still  small  voice,  or  as  it  has  been  amended,  the 
whispering  of  a  sweet  and  cooling  breeze,  follow  on 
the  earthquake  and  the  fire  :  for  the  vision  ended  by 
a  contradiction  of  the  Christian  thought,  ended  in 
the  invocation  of  the  sword  of  Hazael,  Jehu,  and 
Elisha  against  the  enemies  of  Jehovah.  I  think 
the  writer  meant  these  magnificent  outbursts  of  the 

297 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

destroying  pomp  of  Nature  only  to  be  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  presence  of  Jehovah.  But  there  is  no 
reason,  after  we  have  made  that  confession  of 
criticism,  why  we  should  not  use  the  tale  to  point 
a  principle  which  the  writer  did  not  mean.  The 
vision  is  poetry,  and  I  speak  of  it,  finally,  as  sym- 
bolic of  a  frequent  story  in  the  life  of  the  soul. 

The  storm  of  passion  ravages  us  within;  the  fire 
of  sin  has  burnt  up  the  very  life  of  our  spirit.  We 
have  reeled  to  and  fro,  like  men  in  earthquake,  at 
those  terrible  times  in  our  life  when  trouble  and 
temptation  have  smitten  us  with  mortal  pain.  All 
is  lost,  we  cry.  We  take  refuge  in  the  desert; 
we  think  all  earthly  solitude  less  deep  than  the 
solitude  which  reigns  within;  we  accuse  God  as  a 
deceiver,  and  man  as  a  betrayer.  "  I  am  left  alone 
with  my  fierce  passion,  with  my  overwhelming  sin, 
with  my  measureless  trouble.  There  is  no  voice 
nor  any  that  answers  the  voiceless  agony  of  my 
heart." 

Yes,  often  we  stand  in  the  desert,  among  the 
granite  mountains,  alone,  indignant,  tormented,  as 
the  night  is  passing  away,  as  we  have  been  called 
forth  from  the  cave  in  which  we  have  passed  our 
time  of  misery.  We  scarcely  see  the  dawn  which  is 
breaking  on  our  solitude.  Before  us  passes  by  in 
fierce  retrospect  all  that  we  have  sinned  and  suffered, 

298 


ELIJAH  ON  HOREB 

the  tempest,  the  earthquake,  and  the  fire.  "  God  is 
not  in  them,"  we  cry;  "only  myself."  And  as  we 
make  the  confession  we  hear  the  still  small  voice, 
"My  child,  turn  at  last  to  me.  Come  to  my  heart. 
Give  up  thyself;  lay  thy  will  in  mine,  for  mine 
is  righteousness.  Forget  thyself;  remember  love 
alone." 

Soft  as  the  dew  it  falls  —  that  voice  —  upon  the 
parched  heart,  cooling  as  the  whispering  wind  ;  and 
the  new  creation,  the  new  life  begins.  Its  streams 
have  broken  into  light.  In  a  few  years  your  whole 
heart  and  soul,  thoughts,  actions,  and  emotions,  will 
be  changed.  For,  still  and  small  and  full  of  peace 
as  the  voice  of  God  is  in  that  hour,  it  is  not  a  voice 
which  lulls  us  to  sleep.  When  it  has  made  peace 
within,  it  changes  to  the  trumpet  note,  such  as  calls 
sleeping  soldiers  in  the  dawn  of  the  battle-day. 
" What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah.^"  —  that  is  its  cry 
—  "  here  in  the  desert,  far  from  men,  as  if  thy  mourn- 
ing was  greater  than  the  mourning  of  all  mankind  — 
here,  lost  in  jealousy  and  complaint,  and  wailing 
over  the  dead  past }  This  is  not  the  place  where  one 
should  be,  who  is  the  son  of  God,  the  brother  of  Jesus, 
the  comforter,  by  right  of  sorrow,  of  men  and  women. 
Thou  hast  no  special  sorrow  and  no  special  right- 
eousness. There  are  thousands  whose  sorrow  needs 
thy  consolation.      There   are  thousands  who  have 

299 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

not  bowed,  any  more  than  thou,  their  knee  to  the 
false  gods  of  the  world ;  but  who  have  not  fled  from 
their  work  like  thee.  What  doest  thou  in  the 
desert?  Go  forth  from  it  and  labour;  console, 
exalt,  and  free  mankind.  Go,  and  be  the  martyr  of 
truth  and  love.  In  martyrdom  thou  wilt  forget 
thyself." 


300 


THE  PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 


THE  PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 

"  For  unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given :  and 
the  govermnetit  shall  be  upon  his  shoulder :  and  His  name 
shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  mighty  God,  the 
everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Of  the  increase  of 
his  government  and  peace  there  shall  be  no  end,  upon  the 
throne  of  David,  and  upon  his  kingdom,  to  order  it,  and  to 
establish  it  with  judgment  and  with  justice  from  henceforth 
even  for  ever.  The  zeal  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  will  perform 
this.'"  Isaiah  ix.  6,  7, 

"1  T^E  have  all  heard,  at  one  time  or  another,  that 
^  ^  chorus  in  the  Messiah  in  which  Handel, 
using  the  words  of  the  text,  has  realised  the  passion 
and  the  power  of  Isaiah,  prophesying  hope,  redemp- 
tion, the  Just  Governor,  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

The  covering  darkness  that  shrouds  the  earth,  the 
pain  of  the  prophet's  heart  as  he  looked  on  his 
country,  find  their  echo  in  the  solemn  and  weighty 
harmonies  of  the  great  musician.  When  the  pro- 
phetic note  changes,  and  light  begins  to  break  upon 
Isaiah's  gloom,  Handel  keeps  in  sympathy.  Slowly 
the  music  grows  into  the  dawn,  slowly  the  prophetic 

303 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

passion  grows,  for  the  people  who  walked  in  dark- 
ness had  seen  a  great  light;  till  at  last,  music  and 
prophecy,  Handel  and  Isaiah,  both  rising  with  the 
might  and  volume  of  their  sun-uplifting  thought, 
surmount  the  last  height;  woe  and  pain  are  left 
behind ;  above  them  is  the  unfathomable  heaven  and 
the  praise  of  God;  below  them  spreads  the  land- 
scape of  the  future  drenched  in  the  light  of  faith  and 
joy.  Then,  expression  can  wait  no  longer;  in  a 
moment  the  great  chorus  rushes  into  thunder-melody, 
and  Isaiah  into  words  of  thunder-praise.  "  Unto  us 
a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given :  and  the 
government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulder:  and  his 
name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the 
mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of 
Peace."  What  was  this?  It  was  the  glow  of  all  noble 
hearts  in  Judah  concentrated  into  one  heart.  It  was 
the  hope  of  ten  thousand  souls  breaking  into  voice 
on  the  lips  of  one  man.  It  was  that  the  unformed 
and  passionate  thought,  which  had  floated  vaguely  in 
the  people,  was  now  shaped,  animated  by  the  life  of 
genius,  and  sent  forth,  instinct  with  the  fire  of  God, 
to  kindle  the  souls  of  men.  Let  me  trace,  first,  its 
origin;  secondly,  its  passage  through  the  prophet's 
heart;  and  lastly,  its  analogy  in  our  own  life. 

(i)  What  was  the  origin  of  the  prophecy,  that  is, 
of   this   outburst   of   Truth.?     The  words   have  of 

304 


THE  PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 

course  to  do  actually  with  the  history  of  the  time 
at  which  they  were  spoken.  Their  first  meaning 
is  historical.  When  we  have  found  that  meaning, 
we  shall  understand  how  they  may  have  a  relation 
to  the  future. 

When  they  were  first  spoken,  Judah  had  been  a 
long  time  suffering  from  outward  foes  and  inward 
evil.  Invasion  had  come  and  gone,  with  its  devas- 
tation, and  was  again  expected.  Outward  misfor- 
tune was,  moreover,  deepened  by  inward  immorality. 
Injustice  had  been  rampant  in  the  city,  luxury, 
greed,  and  falsehood.  The  whole  head  of  the  land 
was  sick,  and  its  heart  faint.  Darkness  had  covered 
the  earth,  and  gross  darkness  the  people. 

And  man  had  long  desired  some  rest,  some  satis- 
faction. There  were  a  few,  Isaiah's  remnant,  who 
had  sought  it  in  prayer  and  hope;  but,  finding  no 
answer,  had  fallen  into  despair.  Others,  unlike 
these,  had  tried  to  find  it  in  the  licence  described 
in  the  first  chapter  of  this  book,  in  the  unrestrained 
doing  of  their  own  will;  and  they  had  their  re- 
ward—  the  immitigable  reward  of  doing  one's  own 
will  —  double  restlessness,  the  consuming  fires  of 
satiety,  the  tyranny  of  unbridled  desire.  There 
must  have  been  many,  even  among  these,  who,  for 
very  weariness  of  doing  their  own  will,  cried  out  at 
last:  "Give  government,  O  God;  let  us  find  the 
20  305 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND   MODERN  LIFE 

peace  of  duty,  nay  more,  a  Prince  of  Peace. "  Yes,  a 
Prince  of  Peace;  because,  for  the  most  of  men,  de- 
mands of  duty  must  inhere  in  a  lawgiver,  or  in  some 
conception  —  such  as  Humanity,  or  the  State,  or 
universal  order  —  to  which  personality  is  sure  to  be 
given  by  the  mass  of  men  and  women.  Some  im- 
personation is  at  the  back  of  every  conception  of 
duty  and  law.  And  certainly  in  Israel  this  was 
always  the  case. 

The  moment,  then,  these  troubled  folk  in  Judah 
began  to  think  of  duty,  they  were  led  by  their  own 
minds  to  the  desire  of  a  perfect  king.  And  when  once 
the  thought  of  a  person  was  outlined  in  their  feeling, 
the  conception  of  peace  through  the  doing  of  duty 
was  not  enough  for  them.  Man  needs  something 
more  than  the  command  and  call  of  abstract  duty; 
and  it  is  the  great  mistake  and  failure  of  all  our 
modern  ethical  movements  that  they  either  neglect 
or  deny  this  something  more.  Man  desires  to  obey 
through  love,  and  in  order  to  love,  desires  to  know 
some  one  who  will  love  him ;  and  who  is  the  source 
of  duty;  that  is,  who  is  Righteousness  Himself. 
Side  by  side,  then,  with  the  desire  of  doing  what  is 
according  to  law,  the  heart  demands  a  holy  law- 
giver who  can  be  loved ;  whom,  if  we  can  love,  we  are 
delighted  to  obey ;  and  whom  also  we  love  because 
he  is  everything  in  character  which  in  our  highest, 

306 


THE  PROPHET  AND   PROPHECY 

tenderest,  holiest  hour  we  wish  ourselves  to  be.  In 
that  alone,  the  purest  peace  is  found  and  made  our 
own.  It  is  in  the  midst  of  all-harmonising  love 
that  duty  is  done  without  strife  and  pain ;  without 
the  disturbance  of  self-interest,  or  the  anger  of  self- 
will. 

I  do  not  say  that  any  of  the  weary  and  seeking 
spirits  in  Judaea  reasoned  in  this  fashion.  That 
reasoning  is  not  made  while  peace  in  love  of  right  is 
being  pursued.  It  is  only  made  when,  having 
attained  it,  we  look  back  on  the  path  we  have  trodden. 
At  the  beginning  of  our  pursuit  we  do  not  even  know 
at  what  we  aim.  Our  ideas,  like  those  the  Jews  had 
now,  are  vague,  floating,  and  indefinite;  the  pro- 
phetic longings  of  children,  dim  images  of  what  shall 
be.  But  I  do  say  that  the  ideas,  though  formless, 
are  passionate.  The  nation  thrills  with  them ;  and 
there  are  a  thousand  examples  of  similar  national 
conditions  in  history  since  the  world  arose  into 
intelligence  and  aspiration. 

This  was  the  voiceless  passion  among  his  people 
which  now  reached  Isaiah's  receptive  heart.  He 
felt  the  whole  of  this  incoming  tide  of  feeling  smite 
from  without  upon  his  soul.  He  had  the  same 
emotion  also  in  his  own  soul;  and  he  had,  what 
the  people  had  not,  the  power  of  shaping  this  pas- 
sionate feeling  into  form.     And  God  Himself  now 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

came  into  the  matter.  Inspiration  was  poured  into 
Isaiah.  There  is  a  wonderfully  noble  symbolic  de- 
scription of  this  in  that  chapter  where  he  sees  in 
vision  an  angel  bring  a  live  coal  from  the  altar  and 
touch  his  lips  therewith.  The  great  Inspirer  who 
has  breathed  in  all  poets  since  the  world  began, 
added  His  shaping  power  to  His  servant's,  and  the 
whole  of  the  dim  aspirations  of  the  people,  and  with 
them  also  the  passion  of  his  own  heart,  rushed  to 
Isaiah's  lips  in  expression;  till,  like  a  torrent  let 
loose  from  a  cavern,  poured  forth  the  words,  and  all 
that  follows  them :  "  Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto 
us  a  son  is  given. "  *'  The  perfect  king  whom  ye 
desire ;  whose  law  is  righteous  to  obey ;  whom  ye 
may  love,  and  who  will  be  the  prince  of  your  peace 
—  a  Prince  of  Peace  has  come;  but  yesterday  he 
was  born  a  child. " 

Of  whom  did  he  speak  .^  for  all  these  so-called 
prophecies  are  not  foretellments  of  events  to  come. 
They  are,  either  the  record  of  existing  facts,  along 
with  the  hopes  founded  upon  them ;  or,  secondly,  the 
statement  of  truths  which,  from  their  universal  im- 
port, can  be  applied  to  all  periods  of  history.  In 
this  case  there  was  a  fact  at  the  back  of  the  prophecy. 
It  was  the  birth  of  Hezekiah ;  and  the  prophet,  borne 
away  on  the  hopes  he  cherished  for  Israel,  saw  in 
him  the  perfectly  righteous  and  just  king  to  be,  and 

308 


THE  PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 

sketched,  as  Tennyson  has  sketched  in  his  portrait  of 
Arthur  coming  again,  the  reign  of  peace.  "  Of  the 
increase  of  his  government  and  peace  there  shall  be 
no  end,  upon  the  throne  of  David  and  upon  his  king- 
dom, to  order  it  and  to  establish  it  with  judgment 
and  justice,  from  henceforth  even  for  ever. "  As  the 
enkindled  words  ran  through  the  people,  they  em- 
bodied all  their  hopes;  they  gave  form  to  all  their 
undefined  aspirations ;  they  seemed  to  make  a  per- 
fect king  a  possibility,  and  the  coming  of  a  just  king- 
dom real.  Thus  they  gave  a  basis  to  life ;  and,  in  the 
faith  they  encouraged  and  established,  action  towards 
the  far  off  perfection  grew  and  multiplied;  until  the 
reign  of  Hezekiah  actually  became  one  of  those 
parentheses  of  vigorous  reformation  which  save  a 
people,  for  a  time,  from  decay  and  ruin.  Alas,  it  was 
but  for  a  time ;  nevertheless,  the  prophecy  was  not 
lost.  It  is  one  of  those  many  poetic  ideals  which 
again  and  again,  in  every  nation,  have  entered  into 
the  imaginative  and  spiritual  life  of  mankind,  and 
have  done  more  for  its  progress  and  its  evolution 
than  all  the  science  which  has  ever  been  wrought 
out  since  the  beginning  of  intelligence. 

Such  is  the  history  of  a  prophecy;  and  the  main 
lines  of  its  history  are  the  same  for  all  prophecies, 
and  all  great  poems. 

(2)  Now,  the  next  subject  appears,  and  it  is  one  of 
309 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

more  personal  interest.  What  is  the  story,  in  all 
this,  of  the  prophet's  own  heart?  He  has  been 
swept  away  in  his  inspired  excitement;  and  his 
vision  of  the  young  prince,  Hezekiah;  his 
vision  of  him  as  the  perfect  monarch;  rose 
higher  than  the  reality  ever  became.  He  went 
beyond  himself;  he  sang  a  song  of  hope  prosaic 
prudence  would  have  censured.  Himself  in  higher 
life,  a  spirit  within  him  seemed  to  take  up  the  strain 
he  had  begun,  and  carry  him,  not  unconscious,  but 
in  a  wonderful  thrill  of  joy —  in  which  he  felt  his  life 
as  he  had  not  commonly  felt  it  —  into  a  sphere  where 
for  once  he  saw,  not  darkly,  but  face  to  face,  the 
perfect  vision  of  a  king  of  men.  This  was  no  super- 
natural excitement;  such  visions,  such  upliftments 
of  the  soul,  come  to  us,  in  different  degrees,  in 
different  rarity,  in  life.  They  are  the  visits  we  pay 
to  the  mountain  tops ;  the  hours  when,  in  purer  air, 
we  see  the  world  beneath  our  feet,  the  infinite  heaven 
above,  and  the  furthest  ranges  of  the  landscape  of 
mankind.  Then  it  is  that  we  behold  the  divine 
pattern  of  things,  the  archetypes,  the  perfections 
which  we  are  to  pursue. 

But  we  return  from  these  exalted  hours,  and  when 
Isaiah  came  back  to  his  common  life,  and  saw  what 
he  had  written,  he  must  have  felt  as  we  often  feel 
when  we  see  what  we  have  dreamed  and  written  in 

310 


THE  PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 

our  exalted  hour  —  at  first  astonished,  and  then  dis- 
mayed. *'  What  have  I  done  ?  "  he  might  say.  "  This 
is  no  true  picture  of  a  Jewish  prince.  It  is  not  what 
will  be,  but  what  ought  to  be.  Hezekiah  will  not  be 
that.  I  have  led  my  people  wrong ;  I  have  given 
hopes  which  will  never  be  fulfilled." 

The  same  reaction  which  we  find  in  the  work  of 
a  number  of  poets,  which,  for  example,  we  find  at  its 
height  in  Shelley,  befalls  the  Prophet ;  and  he  suffers 
in  the  reaction  as  much  as  he  had  rejoiced  in  the 
exaltation.  It  was  the  same,  we  remember,  with 
St.  Paul,  as  he  tells  us  in  that  strange  personal 
account  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  of  his  being 
caught  up  into  the  third  heaven,  and  of  the  buffeting 
which  followed  it.  We  cannot  tell  how  many  who 
have  prophesied  in  passion  have  felt  in  bitterness 
the  possible  untruth  of  their  truths.  While  all  the 
world  is  ringing  with  their  words  of  hope,  they  are 
beaten  down,  in  the  hour  of  their  revulsion,  into 
utter  loneliness,  hating  even  the  hopes  they  have 
raised,  doubting  of  their  own  truth;  until,  like 
Isaiah,  when  he  felt  that  Hezekiah  could  never  realise 
the  outlines  he  had  sketched  —  they  have  asked  in 
misery:  "Have  I  been  most  false  or  most  befooled 
when  I  felt  most  true  or  most  wise.!*  When  my 
heart  was  on  fire  with  the  wants  of  my  people,  my 
imagination  most  awake  and  pure,  my  being  lost  and 

311 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

found  again  in  what  seemed  the  innermost  light  of 
God  —  was  I  then  most  deceived,  most  weak,  most 
miserable  ?  "  No  —  no  —  that  was  not  the  end ;  and 
we  carry  this  bit  of  human  experience  further.  The 
prophetic  ardour,  which  is  in  truth  the  very  fire  of 
God  in  the  soul,  lifts  the  Prophet  and  the  Poet  out 
of  that  depression,  and  he  reaches  the  quiet  middle 
point  between  exaltation  and  reaction. 

In  this  case,  the  subject  of  the  prophecy  was 
changed,  but  the  prophecy  remained.  If  it  were 
not  true  of  Hezekiah,  it  did  not  follow  that  it 
would  not  be  true  of  another  king  —  of  one  who 
should  have  no  earthly  throne,  but  who,  by  jus- 
tice and  truth  and  love,  should  rule  in  the  hearts 
of  men;  whose  government  should  be  for  ever, 
because  it  was  at  one  with  righteousness;  whose 
power  should  be  immortal,  because  it  was  at  one 
with  love. 

"No,"  said  the  voice  of  God  in  his  heart.  "No, 
my  prophet,  this  is  no  falsehood  you  have  spoken. 
This  is  your  moment  of  perfect  truth.  You  have 
gone  beyond  the  present,  through  the  path  of  the 
present,  into  the  far  off  future.  Hezekiah  will  but 
partly  fulfil  your  words,  but  his  very  imperfections  of 
fulfilment  point  to  the  perfections  of  another.  Look 
onward  still.  See  far  off  that  glorious  light  rising  on 
the  horizon  of  the  centuries.     It  is  indeed  the  Prince 

312 


THE  PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 

of  Peace,  the  King  of  Justice  and  of  Love :  the  Mes- 
siah of  the  Nations." 

So  joy,  and  a  deeper  joy,  came  back  through  sor- 
row to  Isaiah,  and  having  swept  through  this  cycle 
of  feeling,  he  let  the  passage  rest,  and,  glad  in  his 
heart,  cried  out :  "  It  is  not  I  alone  who  have  spoken 
this;  it  is  my  God  within  me." 

That  is  the  true  prophetic  feeling  —  then  and  now. 
The  same  things  have  happened  a  thousand  thou- 
sand times.     Similar  things  happen  again  and  again 
in  our  own  experience.     There  are  hours  when  men 
and  women  feel  that  their  tongue  utters  words  which 
are  not  of  their  common  self,  but  of  their  future  self 
in  higher  place;  when  they  are  at  one  with  that 
ideal  of  themselves  which  dwells  in  God.      Then 
they  do  not  care  what  their  sadder  self  may  say,  nor 
what  the  world  says  about  their  prophecy,  nor  that 
in  the  special  case  from  which  their  prophecy  up- 
grew  there  has  been  failure.     Ridicule  and  unbelief 
fall  back,  like  blunted  spears,  from  their  shield  of 
faith.     They  know  that  they  are  true,  and  that  they 
have  spoken  truth,  for  they  feel  that  God  has  spoken 
through  them.     The  special  form  of  their  truth  may 
decay  or  fail,  but  the  truth  itself  remains.      It  may 
have  only  partial  fulfilment  in  the  present,  but  God 
will  wholly  fulfil  it  in  the  future. 

(3)  Lastly,  there  is  yet  another  analogy,  an  analogy 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

of  the  whole  course  of  our  life  to  that  of  the  history 
of  which  we  have  now  spoken.  As  long  as  men  and 
women  live  they  will  go  through  something  similar 
to  that  which  the  nation  of  Judah  now  went  through. 
We  reach  at  first  the  restlessness  of  Judah,  its  cry 
for  law  and  peace.  We  enter  into  life,  feeling  the 
sting  of  impulse.  At  first  it  is  no  pain,  but  pleas- 
ure. We  call  it  aspiration,  enthusiasm,  desire  to 
succeed  and  move  the  world.  But  sooner  or  later, 
under  the  growth  of  self,  a  great  part  of  it  changes 
into  the  desire  to  do  and  to  get  our  own  will.  I  do 
not  so  much  blame  it  then.  It  is  natural  enough ; 
and  the  only  way  we  can  find  out  that  the  change 
of  eagerness  into  the  passion  of  self-will  is  wrong, 
and  that  the  eagerness  is  killed  by  the  change,  is 
by  experience  of  its  results. 

And  the  experience  comes.  We  weary  of  seeking 
our  own  will,  because  the  only  unweariable  thing  is 
love;  and  to  seek  our  own  will  only  drives  love 
away.  "  Me  this  unchastened  freedom  tires, "  said  a 
great  poet,  and  he  expressed  the  longweariness  of 
humanity  and  its  cause.  Then  we  desire  vaguely 
some  One  to  whom  we  can  say :  "  Guide  me,  rule  me, 
give  me  the  peace  of  duty  done."  Then  we  shake 
away  the  prayer,  and  try  again  the  region  of  self- 
will.  To  and  fro  we  wander,  but  all  the  time  the 
desire  for  a  true  king  in  the  heart  grows  deeper;  the 

314 


THE   PROPHET  AND  PROPHECY 

desire  for  the  peace  of  just  government  within.  At 
last,  what  came  to  Judah  comes  to  us.  Darkness  de- 
scends on  our  life ;  gross  darkness  covers  us.  Sorrow 
invades  the  heart  like  the  Assyrian  host.  The  fields 
and  hamlets  of  the  soul  are  desolated.  Our  garments 
are  rolled  in  the  blood  of  trial;  the  battle  of  men- 
tal trouble  is  with  confused  noise ;  the  pain  of  unsat- 
isfied passions  and  cravings  is  with  burning  and  fuel 
of  fire.  Anarchy  is  declared  within.  We  cannot  bear 
it.  We  are  passionate  for  rest.  The  passion  is  at  first 
formless,  but  it  grows  stronger  and  stronger;  we  must 
have  some  rule,  some  law,  some  obedience  within ; 
the  cry  of  all  the  people  of  Judah  is  our  cry. 

It  is  then  that  the  prophet  part  of  our  nature,  the 
voice  within  which  speaks  so  often  to  us ;  which  tells 
forth  to  us  the  truths  of  life ;  which  prophesies  of  the 
perfection  of  God ;  cries  to  the  whole  nation  of  the 
soul,  and  to  all  its  wearied,  warring,  and  restless 
citizens  —  ''Child,  you  need  a  King;  some  one  to 
obey,  some  one  to  love,  some  one  to  whom  you  may 
submit  your  will."  "Yes,"  we  answer,  "I  want 
one  whose  ways  and  thoughts,  whose  life  and  char- 
acter, whose  strength  and  tenderness  I  can  so  rever- 
ence and  love  that  every  craving  I  have  ever  had 
shall  be  lost  in  the  one  craving  —  that  I  may  be  at 
one  with  Him  in  obedience  and  in  love.  Then  I 
shall  find,  in  living  His  life,  and  in  doing  His  com- 

315 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

mands,  and  in  dying  His  death,  rest  to  my  soul, 
union  with  the  Father,  immortal  love  of  righteous- 
ness, and  immortal  doing  of  right.  Even  now  I  hear 
His  voice:  "Come  unto  me,  all  who  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. "  Yes,  we  hear 
His  call  to  take  His  yoke  of  lowly  duty  done  for 
love  of  God  and  man ;  and  it  is  the  same  at  root  as 
the  old  prophet's  cry,  "Unto  us  a  child  is  born, 
unto  us  a  son  is  given."  Both  are  the  prophecy  to 
a  soul  in  anarchy  of  just  and  noble  government, 
and  of  peace  through  government. 

It  is  with  joy  we  take  it  to  our  hearts,  with 
sometimes  a  joy  more  exalted  than  can  be  supported. 
Life  is  not  the  unbroken  conquest  that  we  hoped. 
We  sometimes  wonder,  in  our  depression,  if  the 
prophet  voice  in  our  soul  were  true.  But  then,  as 
with  Isaiah,  the  depression  passes,  and  we  spring 
into  faith  again.  What  has  been  in  us  of  the 
kingdom  is  only  a  part  of  what  will  be.  The  full 
hopes  of  the  soul  are  in  the  future ;  the  full  perfec- 
tion of  the  government  of  God  in  us,  of  our  peace, 
of  the  immortal  glory  of  love  in  us,  are  yet  to  be ; 
but  they  are  as  sure  as  life.  We  must  wait  till  the 
whole  world  is  redeemed.  You  surely  would  not 
have  your  perfect  bliss  alone,  or  apart  from  the  rest 
of  men.  When  peace  is  universal,  then  in  each  it 
shall  also  be  perfect. 

316 


THE   MESSAGE   TO    BARUCH 


THE   MESSAGE  TO   BARUCH 

"  The  word  that  Jeremiah  the  prophet  spake  unto  Bariich 
the  son  of  Neriah,  when  he  had  written  these  words  in  a 
book  at  the  mouth  of  Jeremiah,  in  the  fourth  year  of  Jehoia- 
kim  the  son  of  fosiah  king  of  Judah,  saying,  Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  the  God  of  Israel,  unto  thee,  O  Baruch  ;  Thou  didst 
say,  Woe  is  me  now  !  for  the  Lord  hath  added  grief  to  my 
sorrotv  ;  I  fainted  in  my  sighing,  and  I  find  no  rest. 

"  Thus  shalt  thou  say  unto  him,  the  Lord  saith  thjcs :  Be- 
hold, that  zvhich  I  have  built  will  I  break  down,  and  that 
which  I  have  planted  I  will  pluck  up,  even  this  whole  land. 
And  seekest  thou  great  things  for  thyself?  seek  them  not :  for, 
behold  I  will  bring  evil  upon  all  flesh,  saith  the  Lord :  but  thy 
life  will  I  give  imto  thee  for  a  prey  in  all  places  whither  thou 
goesty  JerExMIAh   xlv.  1-5. 

nPHIS  is  the  last  word,  the  postscript,  as  it  were, 
to  the  roll  of  Jeremiah's  prophecy,  and  it  is 
steeped  in  trouble  and  despair.  Most  of  us  know 
the  story:  the  impassioned  denunciations  of  Jere- 
miah in  the  Temple  court,  the  indignation  of  the 
officers  of  the  Temple,  the  prophet's  imprisonment 
and  gloom,  the  comfort  of  Baruch 's  presence,  the 
relief  they  found,   through  expression,    in  writing 

319 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

down  the  prophecies  concerning  the  fate  of  the  city, 
the  vain  hope  that  reading  them  to  Jehoiakim  would 
bring  about  his  repentance,  the  impatient  burning 
of  the  book  by  the  lawless  king,  the  horror  of  Baruch 
at  the  deed,  the  rewriting  of  the  whole  at  Jeremiah's 
dictation,  and  then,  when  all  was  finished,  this  last 
personal  prophecy,  half  of  warning,  half  of  comfort, 
to  the  timid  and  sorrow-stricken  scribe:  "Thus 
saith  the  Lord." 

It  is  the  picture  of  a  patriot's  grief  in  times  of 
national  change  and  ruin,  and  the  worst  of  his  grief 
was  hopelessness.  For,  living  with  a  prophet  who 
saw  into  the  heart  of  things,  he  knew,  when  king, 
priests,  judges,  and  people  were  violating  all  the 
laws  of  true  national  life,  that  nothing  could  avert 
the  blow  which  Babylon  already  threatened.  It  was 
coming  on  all  men  in  Jerusalem,  on  his  own  hopes, 
on  the  hopes  of  youth  and  womanhood,  of  the  noble 
and  the  base  —  a  common  overthrow.  Jerusalem, 
the  joy  of  the  whole  earth,  was  doomed. 

Then  further  thoughts  arose,  thoughts  which 
seemed  to  shake  the  very  foundations  of  his  faith  in 
a  righteous  Ruler  who  was  lost  to  him,  if  He  had 
made  all  men  or  anything  for  nought.  Here,  as  it 
were  in  a  moment,  God's  work  of  centuries  was 
being  blotted  out.  All  the  glorious  history  which 
had   begun    in    Abraham,   and   was    carried    on  so 

320 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

greatly  through  Moses,  David,  Hezekiah;  which 
Solomon  had  sung,  and  Isaiah  blown  to  all  the 
winds  of  heaven  through  his  silver  trumpet  — was 
this  the  end,  this  the  impotent  conclusion  ?  Where, 
then,  was  God?  What  sort  of  a  Being  was  He? 
If  all  His  work  be  vanity,  is  He  not  Himself  vanity  ? 
It  is  a  difficulty  and  a  sorrow  which  has  beset 
patriots  for  their  nation,  and  men  for  themselves, 
again  and  again  when  ruin  falls,  in  unavoidable 
disaster,  on  a  great  people  or  a  good  life.  Has  God 
made  all  things  for  nought?  Is  He  nought  Him- 
self, that  He  permits  this  evil? 

What  did  Jeremiah,  a  man  wise  by  sorrow,  wiser 
by  living  with  God,  think  about  this  ?  The  problem 
was  fairly  placed  before  him ;  what  answer  did  he 
give?  Not  all  we  need,  no  doubt;  but  Jeremiah 
was  not  the  man  to  shirk  a  difficulty,  and  when 
Baruch  laid  this  trouble  before  his  master,  his 
master  answered  in  the  name  of  God.  And  this 
was  the  stern  comfort  —  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord, 
Behold,  that  which  I  have  built  up  will  I  break 
down,  and  that  which  I  have  planted  will  I  pluck 
up,  even  this  whole  land. " 

Do  we  find  in  it  any  consolation  ? 

Well,  first,  it  is  always  some  comfort  when  things 
are   made   clear;  and  if  we  are  miserable,  it  is  a 
blessing  to  know  that  God  does  not  disallow  our 
21  321 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

misery.  "  Yes,  my  child,  this  is  tribulation.  I  do 
not  evade  your  complaint  nor  palliate  your  pain." 
It  was  so  Christ  spoke:  "In  this  world  ye  shall 
have  tribulation." 

Again,  there  are  men  who,  when  a  country  is  on 
the  verge  of  destruction,  sit  calmly  by  and  prophesy 
smooth  things,  throwing  over  the  national  misery  a 
cloud  of  rose  colour,  making  the  ruin  picturesque. 
It  was  this  many  a  false  prophet  did  when  Jeremiah 
saw  clearly  the  fall  of  Zion.  We  can  imagine  the 
passionate  wrath  at  these  men  which  made  the 
prophet '  s  patient  sorrow  keener.  For  the  only  chance 
the  nation  had,  was  in  recognising  its  terrible  con- 
dition, and  these  smooth-tongued  liars  lulled  it  into 
a  blind  security.  "What!"  might  Jeremiah  have 
said,  "  is  there  none  who  sees  that  we  are  rushing 
through  the  rapids,  and  that  we  shall  be  soon  over 
the  cataract } " 

It  was  then,  in  that  time  of  falsehood,  that  the 
prophet  heard  God's  voice  in  his  heart,  and  told 
His  law;  and  all  suspense  and  lies  were  done  away. 
"Yes,"  said  God,  "these  are  times  of  ruin.  I  am 
destroying,  rooting  up;  I  bring  evil  upon  all  flesh." 
This  is  the  rigid  truthfulness  of  this  book.  That 
austere  revelation  of  reality  which  is  heard  in  the 
words  of  all  true  prophets  of  whatever  race,  is  the 
voice   of   God   as   the   Lord   of   law.      "There   is 

322 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

justice,"  it  cries,  "and  it  will  have  its  way.  What 
you  have  sowed,  that  you  shall  reap;  and  the  harvest 
has  now  come." 

I  hold,  when  we  are  in  the  midst  of  evil,  that  this 
is  one  of  the  few  comforts  worth  having  —  to  be  told, 
without  palliation,  without  modification,  that  the 
time  of  punishment  is  here ;  to  know  and  understand 
the  worst.  For  then  we  have  our  lesson.  We  see 
that  to  get  on  the  side  of  law  is  our  business,  and 
our  salvation;  not  our  salvation  from  punishment 
for  the  past,  because  that  must  be  exacted ;  but  our 
salvation  from  doing  any  more  that  for  which  justice 
punishes.  Once  we  know  where  we  are  clearly, 
know  that  we  are  utterly  wrong  —  why,  then  we 
know  also  clearly  where  we  ought  to  be,  if  we  are  to 
be  utterly  right.  And  that  knowledge,  if  we  have 
any  manliness  in  us,  any  elements  of  recovery,  is 
our  best  consolation;  for  then  we  spring  up  to  take 
our  punishment,  and  to  change  it  into  a  new  national 
or  individual  life. 

And  even  if  we  cannot  do  this,  if  a  full  overthrow 
is  to  be  our  nation's  fate  or  our  own,  why,  anything 
is  better  than  persuading  ourselves  that  we  are  good 
when  we  are  evil ;  just,  when  we  are  unjust ;  noble, 
when  we  are  base;  destined  to  a  splendid  future, 
when  we  are  doomed  to  immediate  overthrow.  No, 
if  we  are  to  die,  let  us  leave  off  evil  and  lies,  even  in 

323 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

the  jaws  of  death.  Better  to  perish  bravely  in  har- 
ness having  at  last  come  to  ourselves,  than  to  be 
slain  writhing  in  impotent  sorrow  in  a  coward's 
hiding  place ;  better,  if  we  are  a  man  like  Baruch,  to 
understand  that  the  times  are  evil,  and  to  give  up 
seeking  for  pleasant  things,  content  to  die  quietly  at 
our  post  in  clear  consciousness,  than  to  have  de- 
struction overtake  us  unprepared,  in  the  midst  of  a 
false,  blind,  and  luxurious  life;  to  meet  the  fate  of 
Jehoiakim,  and  to  deserve  it,  "thrown  out  of  the 
gates  of  the  city,  buried  with  the  burial  of  an  ass." 
This  then  is  the  duty  of  all  statesmen,  prophets, 
and  the  rest  who  can  see  national  evils,  or  individual 
ill.  "To  tell  the  truth,  to  palliate  nothing  of  the 
mischief,  not  to  let  one  grain  of  the  sin  escape. "  It  is 
the  best  way  to  help  wrongdoers.  It  is  a  stern  but 
a  wise  comfort  to  give  those  who  mourn  for  or  suffer 
by  the  wrong.  Very  likely,  those  who  give  it  will 
meet  something  of  the  fate  of  the  prophet ;  they  will 
have  to  bear  the  persecution  which  follows  those  who 
disturb  the  careless  ease  of  men.  But  that  will  make 
but  little  matter.  The  kingdom  of  the  prophets  is 
not  of  this  world.  And  yet  the  thing  they  do  is 
the  best  thing  for  the  nation  or  mankind.  Igno- 
rance of  evil  is  the  privilege  of  the  child.  Knowl- 
edge of  evil  is  the  fate  of  the  man.  Battle  with 
evil,  when  he  knows  it,  is  the  duty  of  the  man;  and 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

conquest  of  it  is  his  great  inheritance.  But  before 
he  conquer  evil,  he  must  know  it.  Therefore  I  say 
that  to  all  the  human  souls  that  are  worth  their 
humanity,  there  is  no  comfort  in  the  evil  times  of 
their  nation  greater,  however  austere  it  be,  than  to 
hear  God  saying:  ''Yes,  I  am  destroying.  The 
time  has  come;  I  will  bring  punishment  upon  all 
flesh." 

And  the  whole  principle  is  just  as  true  of  a  per- 
sonal life.  When  the  young  man  passes  out  of  the 
shelter  of  home  into  the  midst  of  the  world,  he  thinks 
it  will  be  an  easy  thing  to  live  for  goodness.  In  the 
sheltered  life  he  has  led  he  does  not  know  the  truth 
of  things,  nor  what  is  true  of  his  own  character. 
What  is  God  to  do  with  him }  To  protect  him  from 
all  temptation.?  To  keep  him  by  a  miracle  free 
from  wrong.?  So,  he  would  die  a  child,  in  ever- 
lasting infancy.  No  progress,  no  manhood,  no  useful 
life  would  be  his  lot.  Very  differently  does  God  act, 
who  wishes  for  soldiers  and  men  to  serve  Him. 
God  puts  an  end  to  his  early  life,  his  ease,  his  quiet 
faith,  his  ignorance  of  wrong.  Temptations  beset 
him ;  the  atmosphere  in  which  he  moves  blurs  the 
sharp  lines  of  right  and  wrong;  his  faith  becomes 
first  confused,  then  battered  on  all  sides;  and  he 
finds  at  last  that,  if  he  is  to  keep  true,  life  must  be 
one  constant  watch  through    storm,   and  continual 

32s 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

combat ;  nay,  that  he  must  embody  before  him  the 
evil  of  the  world,  and  never,  till  death,  make  peace 
with  it. 

It  is  a  bitter  disillusion  at  first,  a  hard  and  sorrow- 
ful hour.  But  let  it  be  some  comfort  at  least  that 
God  does  not  prophesy  smooth  things  to  us,  that  He 
has  made  it  as  plain  as  the  light  in  the  sky  that  if 
we  would  be  His  children,  we  must  go  through  pain, 
and  endure  many  of  His  destructions;  that  we  may 
often  have  to  suffer  far  more  than  the  guilty,  since 
we  shall  have,  if  we  are  His,  to  suffer  for  the  guilty. 
It  is  true,  in  so  doing,  we  shall  have  immortal  joy 
within,  the  inward  rapture  of  love  perfecting  itself 
in  love;  but  we  shall  also  have  less  and  less  of 
escape  from  outward  grief  and  pain.  There  is  no 
mincing  of  the  matter.  The  very  truth  is  told  us. 
And  that  is  a  consolation  worthy  of  a  man's  grati- 
tude. It  was  so  that  Christ  felt  it.  "  Now  is  my 
soul  troubled :  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour.  Yet 
for  this  cause  came  I  unto  this  hour. "  And  so  ought 
we  to  feel  it.  For  this  cause  came  we  unto  this 
suffering. 

What  are  we  to  do.^  To  sit  down  and  weep; 
to  sit  down  and  sleep ;  to  enter  the  false  Paradise 
of  false  pleasure  and  wild  passion  }  —  or  to  redeem 
the  spot  of  savage  soil,  where  the  thorns  tear  and 
the  thistles  sting,  and  to  win  it  from  the  waste;  and 

326 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

when  we  drop  the  spade  and  die  upon  the  ground, 
to  say:  "I  have  sown  and  ploughed  and  tended. 
God  give  the  fruit  of  the  harvest  to  my  fellow  men. 
Lord  God  of  work,  receive  my  spirit  "  ?  That  is  the 
true  gladness  of  life;  and  to  know  and  love  the 
sternness  out  of  which  it  grows,  that  is  consolation. 
And  now  the  second  shred  of  comfort  given  to 
Baruch  is  contained  in  the  first.  It  was  God  Him-  /^ 
self  who  was  the  destroyer. 

In  all  destruction  and  passing  away  there  is  one  / 
thought  bitterer  than  all  the  rest,  a  thought  which  I 
has  driven  many  that  began  with  religion  into  mate- 1 
rialism  — that  these  are  the  work  of  an  evil  being.    It ' 
is  abominable  to  believe  (and  the  belief  has  been  the 
root  of  endless  abominations  done  in  the  name  of 
religion)  that  we  or  the  world  are  handed  over  to 
the  power,  however  limited,  of  evil.    For,  ultimately, 
such  a  faith  degrades  our  conception  of  God;  and 
when  we  worship  Him  under  a  degraded  conception, 
all  other  conceptions  are  degraded  by  it.      The  wor- 
ship of  a  mean,  false,  capricious,  stupid,  selfish,  or 
cruel  God  rriakes  our  view  of  history,  of  humanity, 
of  our  society,  our  home,  and  of  all  that  we  do, 
mean,  false,  cruel,  indifferent,  scornful,  limited,  and 
dull.      And  it  is  vile  conceptions  of  God  of  this  kind, 
and   therefore   vile  conceptions  of  humanity,   that 
have  made  half  of  the  materialism  of  the  present 

327 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

day.  Some  of  us  complain  of  materialists,  of  their 
hardness,  their  selfish  theories,  their  bitterness! 
Have  we  ever  asked  ourselves  what  we  have  made 
them  suffer  when  they  were  young,  with  our  reli- 
gions, with  our  God;  and  how  far  their  bitterness 
is  not  the  same  kind  of  bitterness  which  a  man  has 
towards  women,  or  a  woman  towards  men,  when, 
having  an  ideal  love,  it  has  been  rendered  vile  by 
treachery?  Have  our  theories  of  God's  character, 
and  our  cruel  doctrines  about  man,  turned  that  which 
was  to  the  young  enthusiast  his  highest  ideal,  into 
the  basest  clay  ?  Who  knows  whether  many,  who 
claim  to  be  the  favoured  children  of  God,  have  not 
sown  broadcast  in  the  souls  of  men  the  materialism 
which  now  makes  them  scorn  religion,  which  has 
turned  it  into  a  curse  to  humanity  ? 

Half  our  sadness  is  taken  away  if  we  accept  the 
prophet's  statement,  and  say  that  it  is  God  Himself 
that  has  wrought  the  ruin  we  deplore.  Shall  there 
be  evil  in  the  city  and  the  Lord  hath  not  done  it.? 
is  a  vigorous  statement,  and  it  may  be  made  into  a 
dangerous  doctrine,  but  it  is  all  the  same  the  very 
truth.  It  is  a  comfort  to  believe  that  it  is  personal 
love  and  goodness  which  destroy,  not  malice,  or 
spite,  or  jealousy,  or  desire  of  self  glory. 

Baruch  saw  his  nation  perishing,  and  he  was 
miserable  thereat.     God  could  not  save  the  nation 

328 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

without  violating  His  own  moral  law;  and  to  violate 
law  is  to  cease  to  be  God.  But  though  He  could 
not  save,  He  gave  this  comfort  to  His  servant,  that 
Jerusalem  was  being  overthrown  by  goodness,  that 
love  and  justice  were  uprooting  its  stately  tree.  It 
was  not  that  evil  was  overcoming  good,  it  was  that  \  i/ 
good  was  putting  an  end  to  evil,  and  bringing  good 
to  sight.  But  even  this  answer  was,  or  seemed, 
pain  in  itself.  For  it  suggested  the  thought  that 
all  God's  previous  work  was  vanity.  "Thou  art 
the  Destroyer;  yes,  but  if  so,  if  all  Thy  past  labour 
be  unproductive,  then  I  have  lost  Thee,  my  God, 
as  I  worshipped  Thee  of  old.  I  find  only  an  idol 
in  Thy  place  whom  my  heart  rejects,  my  reason 
despises,  and  my  conscience  abhors."  But  God 
replies:  "When  the  harvest  has  come,  the  tares 
shall  be  destroyed."  But  why.?  "That  the  wheat 
may  be  gathered  in ;  and  when  the  harvest  of  one 
field  is  laid  by,  I  sow  with  its  produce  a  hundred 
fields." 

We  look  only  at  what  is  destroyed  in  the  days  of 
destruction,  for  the  pain  of  the  destruction  is  then 
close  and  tyrannous,  and  will  let  us  see  nought  but 
itself.  We  are  not  quiet  enough  in  midst  of  national 
or  personal  grief  to  judge  correctly,  or  to  look  to 
the  future;  and  it  would  be  inhuman  if  we  vv'ere. 
But  when  the  day  of  desolation  is  past  by,  and  the 

329 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

realm  of  our  sorrow  is  exhausted,  then  we  ought 
to  be  able  to  see  that  there  is  another  side  to 
things,  and  understand  what  Baruch  heard:  — 

**  Behold,  what  I  built  I  destroy ;  what  I  planted  I  uproot." 

We  forget  in  the  pity  of  the  destruction  that  God 

has  been  the  builder,  that  at  other  times  in  history 

this   other   expression    is   true:    "Behold,   what  I 

[destroyed,  I  build  again;  what  I  uprooted  I  plant 

lonce  more."     God  was  the  builder;  He  will  again 

be  the  builder.     Men,  save  for  a  chosen  purpose,  do 

'  not  pull  down  that  which  they  have  set  up  with 

care;  neither  does  the  Father  of  men,  whose  reason 

we  possess.     If  He  destroys  it  is  for  new  building; 

and  He  builds  the  new  with  the  stones  of  the  old. 

Nay  more,  may  not  the  truth  be  better  put? 
What  if  all  this  which  is  destroyed  be  only  the 
scaffolding,  not  the  real  building;  what  if  behind 
the  ruins  of  that  which  in  our  blindness  we  thought 
the  edifice  God  has  been  raising  for  us,  and  for  the 
ages,  a  mighty  temple.? 

It  seems  that  that  is  true.  Only  the  evil  of  the 
Jewish  nation  perished  in  its  awful  overwhelming. 
What  remained  was  the  good :  and  that  was  inde- 
structible. But  we  should  not  have  seen  or  known 
the  good  had  not  the  destruction  swept  away  the 
vain  shows  of  useless  things.  Though  Samaria  fell, 
though  Jerusalem  was  sown  with  salt,  yet  that  great 

330 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

religion,  on  which  a  greater  stands,  endured.  The 
unity  of  God  was  rooted  in  the  world.  Noble  Jewish 
lives  have  fixed  into  outward  fact  the  glory  of  moral 
conduct;  the  prophets  have  made  the  truths  of 
God's  righteousness,  justice,  pity,  tenderness  and 
sovereignty  at  one  with  the  human  soul.  These 
and  many  more  eternal  things  are  ours  for  ever. 
This  is  the  temple  built  by  God  for  the  Jewish 
race  within  the  scaffolding  which  Babylon  over- 
threw. It  is  the  same  with  the  great  world. 
Nation  after  nation  seems  to  perish,  but  the  ideas 
they  were  given  to  develop  are  built  into  the  being 
of  the  race ;  make  it  more  complex,  capable  of  fulfill- 
ing more  functions,  and  therefore  of  more  progress. 
The  scaffolding  is  pulled  down,  and  then  we  see  the 
building;  the  temple  of  humanity  remains,  built 
by  God  and  for  God  within  the  ruins  of  the  past. 
Greece  was  uprooted,  but  the  real  building  which 
she  made  by  God's  power  is  fairer  than  her  ancient 
Parthenon,  and  the  nations  worship  in  it  still. 
Rome  perished,  but  the  temple  which  her  law  and 
order  and  sense  of  duty  built  has  sent  its  power  and 
its  law  into  the  life  of  the  world.  It  was  only  the 
scaffolding  which  was  overthrown.  The  building 
was  disclosed  when  the  scaffolding  was  uprooted. 
Nor  is  the  same  thought  inapplicable  to  our  indi- 
vidual life. 

331 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

One  thing,  however,  we  must  add  to  this  con- 
ception, else  it  cannot  be  true  —  that  the  living  souls 
who,  in  the  midst  of  this  weaving  and  unweaving, 
this  destroying  and  upbuilding,  have  died  or  been 
slain,  are  not  lost  like  seeds  that  have  failed  in  the 
earth.  They  each  had  God  as  their  Father,  they 
each  took  their  part  in  His  work,  consciously  or 
unconsciously;  but  they  were  not  sucked  dry,  and 
then  cast  away.  They  are  alive  now,  and  passing 
onwards  in  other  lives,  part  of  the  invisible  but 
living  humanity.  God  is  their  Father  still.  Not  a 
grain  of  all  that  is  noble  has  been  lost;  there  is  not 
a  shred  of  all  the  pain  which  has  not  borne  its  fruit. 
The  great  Humanity  on  earth,  which  is  growing 
into  form,  has  elsewhere  its  unseen  portion  advanc- 
ing with  itself.  Humanity  seems  here  an  imper- 
fect sphere,  but  it  rounds  away  from  our  eyes  into 
the  eternal  world;  on  the  left  into  the  past,  on  the 
right  into  the  future :  and  the  day  will  come  when, 
orbed  into  perfection,  we  shall  see  it  as  a  whole; 
and  it  will  roll  on  its  way  in  the  midst  of  its  own 
music,  no  longer  still  and  sad,  no  more  discordant; 
but,  "  in  an  undisturbed  song  of  pure  concent,  aye 
sung  before  the  sapphire-coloured  Throne."  This 
is  the  Lord's  doing,  we  shall  cry,  and  it  is  mar- 
vellous in  our  eyes. 

Take  these  things  therefore  as  your  comfort  in  the 
332 


THE  MESSAGE    TO  BARUCH 

days  of  judgment.  They  are  of  little  consolation, 
if  you  doubt  them  :  they  are  mighty,  if  you  believe 
them.  When  we  believe  them,  a  vision  of  such 
glory  rises  as  eye  hath  not  seen.  Face  to  face  with 
personal  pain,  enthralled  and  burdened  by  the  pain 
of  others,  seeing  all  the  woe  of  mankind  in  this 
great  city  present  at  the  very  destruction  of  a  nation, 
who  can  sometimes  help  crying:  "Ah,  Lord  God, 
hast  Thou  made  all  things  for  nought  ?"  But  while 
in  our  despair  we  take  our  harp  to  prelude  woe, 
into  the  midst  of  the  unspeakable  sorrow  sweeps 
the  unspeakable  joy  that  is  behind  the  curtain  of 
the  dark.     Our  hand  trembles,  — 

"  We  cannot  all  command  the  strings  : 
The  glory  of  the  sum  of  things 
Will  flash  along  the  chords  and  go." 


333 


ECCLESIASTES 


ECCLESIASTES 

*'  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity,  saith  the  preacher.^'* 

ECCLES.  i.  I. 

nPHIS  is  the  keynote  of  this  Book  of  Ecclesiastes, 
^  "  Emptiness  of  emptinesses,  all  is  emptiness." 
The  world  is  like  a  cup  drained  dry.  We  are  here, 
we  cannot  help  it.  Let  us  enjoy  what  we  can,  and 
endure  the  rest.  The  only  question  is  how.  But 
before  we  take  up  the  subject  we  must  date  the 
book  and  touch  its  historical  position. 

It  was  written  after  the  Persian  monarchy  had 
fallen,  when  the  Jews  were  living  under  the  rule 
of  the  Greek  princes  who  succeeded  Alexander  the 
Great.  The  great  mass  of  the  Jews,  indignant  at 
being  under  a  foreign  rule,  brought  close  to  heathen- 
ism, which  they  now  abhorred,  were  set  into  a  vio- 
lent intolerance  of  heathen  folk  and  ways.  They 
developed  an  eager  and  impassioned  religious  life; 
and  this  rose  into  great  devoutness,  and  the  spiri- 
tuality which  comes  from  martyrdom,  when  their 
22  337 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIEE 

persecution  began  under  Antiochus  Epiphanes. 
Then  began  again  the  heroic  times  of  Israel  in  the 
Maccabean  rebellion.  It  was  shortly  before  that 
period,  about  the  middle  of  the  second  century  be- 
fore Christ,  that  the  Book  of  Daniel  was  written. 
It  was  a  short  time  previous  to  that  writing,  that 
the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes  was  written  under  the 
name  of  Solomon.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  it  is  not 
a  religious,  not  a  pious  book.  It  is  in  direct  oppo- 
sition to  the  spirit  of  the  Book  of  Daniel,  and  the 
question  arises,  "  What  was  the  source  of  the  spirit 
of  Ecclesiastes,  of  its  doubt  and  indifference,  of 
this  cultivated  contempt  of  the  world,  of  this  sense 
of  the  emptiness  of  life.^  " 

Well,  there  were  a  number  of  Jews,  a  small  but 
rich  number,  who  were  learned,  and  lovers  of  pleas- 
ure and  beauty,  who  lived  in  beautiful  and  wealthy 
cities  like  Alexandria,  and  who  fell  under  the  fasci- 
nation of  Greek  learning,  Greek  art,  and  Greek  phi- 
losophy, at  a  time  when  Greece  was  no  longer  the 
grave  and  dignified  leader  of  the  intelligence  and 
art  of  the  world,  but  a  commentator  rather  than  a 
writer  of  thought,  and  a  collector  and  critic  rather 
than  a  creator  of  beauty.  This  class  of  Jews, 
either  in  opposition  to  the  intolerant  and  severely 
ethical  religion  of  their  fellow  countrymen,  or  weary 
of  the  nobler  devotion  and  hopes  of  the  prophetic 

338 


ECCLESIASTES 

souls,  —  because  these  took  their  thoughts  away  from 
the  present  pleasure,  and  fixed  them  on  vague  hopes 
of  a  perfect  future,  — threw  themselves  into  the  full 
world  which  surrounded  them;  read  the  heathen 
philosophy,  went  to  the  heathen  theatres,  entered 
into  the  Greek  enjoyment  of  life  —  books,  art,  com- 
merce, feasts,  pleasure,  games,  luxury,  and  women  — 
with  all  the  Jewish  impetuosity  and  the  Jewish  inten- 
sity. They  could  not,  however,  get  entirely  rid  of 
the  Jewish  conscience,  of  the  sense  of  holiness,  of 
the  notion  at  least  of  a  God  of  righteousness  who  de- 
manded righteousness;  and  this  grain  of  conscience 
is  to  be  observed  in  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes.  The 
rest  of  it  is  the  production  of  a  man  who  had,  as  a 
Jew,  gone  through  the  pleasure  and  the  learning  of 
the  Greek,  and  come  out,  tired  and  exhausted,  on 
the  other  side;  and  all  the  more  weary  and  scornful 
because  he  was  on  the  verge  of  old  age.  That  is 
the  history  of  the  book.  And  its  voice  is  the  voice 
of  those  men  and  women  in  our  society  at  the  pre- 
sent day  who  are  weary  of  life  because  of  plcnt}^, 
v/ho  can  do  everything  they  like  and  do  it;  who 
have  no  struggle,  no  poverty,  no  Vv^ork,  except  to 
amuse  themselves.  It  is  also  the  voice  of  another 
type  of  comfortable  people,  who  have  time  to  read 
or  write  books ;  who  have  gone  through  philosophies 
and  religions  and  sciences  and  politics  and  been 

339 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

transiently  excited  over  each;  who  have  passed  as 
cultivated  persons  through  the  arts,  or  played  at 
the  philanthropies  of  life,  but  who  from  beginning 
to  end,  have  worked  like  amateurs,  not  as  artists ; 
who  have  had  none  of  the  beloved  and  enthralling 
charms  that  poverty  and  effort  bring;  all  whose 
work  has  been  as  slight  as  their  effort  is  easy;  who 
think  that  they  have  felt  and  known  all  things,  but 
who  have  never  realised  anything  with  intensity, 
or  known  anything  to  its  recesses,  for,  if  they  had, 
they  would  have  loved  that  thing;  and  if  they  had 
loved,  even  but  once,  they  had  never  said:  "All 
is  vanity." 

What  a  picture  this  book  presents  of  this  common 
type  of  folk  !  "  Man  gains  nothing,"  it  says,  "from 
all  his  toil ;  nature  brings  him  no  delight ;  it  swings 
in  the  same  monotonous  round  :  there's  nothing  new 
under  the  sun.  The  preacher  once  had  pleasure  in 
wisdom,  but  even  that,  he  soon  found  out,  was 
emptiness.  He  indulged  his  senses,  that  too  was 
vanity.  He  w^as  rich  and  had  its  pleasures  —  't  was 
vexation!  He  pursued  knowledge;  that  too  was 
absurd.  'T  is  better  certainly  to  be  wise  than  to 
be  a  fool ;  but  then  the  wise  man  dies  like  the  fool, 
and  all  is  said.  It  is  ridiculous ;  life  is  a  poor  play, 
yet  we  have  to  sit  it  out.  We  have  indeed  the  will 
to  live;  'twere  better  not  to  have  it.     At  least  we 

340 


ECCLESIASTES 

can  despise  the  thing;  and  that,  perhaps,  is  our 
nobility.  But  even  that  is  vanity.  One  thing  comes 
after  another,  and  folk  call  this  succession  good ;  but 
why  is  it  good  t  The  child  that  dies  is  better  off 
than  the  man  who  has  found  out  the  illusions  in 
which  he  lives.  Therefore  enjoy  what  you  can  get, 
and  take  no  trouble  about  anything  else." 

*' After  all,  evil  is  triumphant:  the  end  of  a  man 
is  the  end  of  a  beast.  Snatch  what  you  may  of 
pleasure  and  good;  soon  you  will  be  old  and  unable. 
Death  is  better  than  life,  for  it  is  rest;  yet  a  living 
dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion,  for  the  living  know 
that  they  are  alive,  but  the  dead  know  nothing  at  all. 
We  must  bend  to  God's  will,  for  what  else  can  we 
do.?  It  is  best  to  be  prudent  and  moderate"  — 
this  is  his  counsel  now  he  is  old  —  "'  and  to  fear  God, 
for  then  a  man  can  enjoy  his  wealth  easily.  The 
strange  things  seen  under  the  sun  —  the  righteous 
destroyed  by  his  goodness,  the  villain  made  pros- 
perous by  his  villainy  —  tell  you  not  to  be  too  good 
or  too  wise  or  too  eager;  for  all  enthusiasm  means 
nonsense  and  trouble.  But  what  need  to  give  this 
advice.?  It  will  not  be  taken,  for  the  most  of  men 
are  fools;  and  as  to  women,  there  is  not  one  of 
them  that  has  understanding:  keep  away  from  them. 
Yet  try  and  not  be  too  stupid  or  too  wicked; 
that  also  leads  to  destructior    f  all  peace  and  happi- 

341 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

ness.  Indeed,  we  are  sorely  placed.  Wherever  we 
turn,  we  are  victimised ;  the  only  chance  is  modera- 
tion, and  moderation  is  dull.  Moreover,  there  is 
death  at  the  end;  it  is  that  which  crowns  life  with 
vanity.  The  dead  know  nothing,  the  dead  are  for- 
gotten, death  swallows  all  our  passions,  all  our 
joys." 

"  So  there  is  nothing  better  than  to  get  all  the  joy 
you  can,  always  remembering  that  time  and  chance 
rule  all  things.  Live  with  as  little  anxiety,  as  little 
eagerness,  as  you  can.  If  you  do  too  much  good, 
you  get  no  thanks  for  it ;  if  you  are  bad,  you  get  no 
thanks  also;  keep  a  middle  path.  Enjoy,  young 
man,  your  life,  but  balance  your  enjoyment  with  the 
thought  that  God  will  bring  you  into  judgment  in 
this  world.  Think  that  old  age,  with  all  its  pains,  is 
at  hand,  and  then  silence  and  the  grave.  Vanity  of 
vanities.  And  our  last  warning;  do  not  be  for  ever 
writing  books  ;  don't  waste  your  time  with  too  much 
science,  it  is  weariness.  Above  all,  keep  on  the 
right  side  of  law;  obey  nature;  that  is,  observe 
God's  commandments." 

This  was  the  cry  of  the  sceptical  Jew,  and  it  is 
the  cry  —  so  unchanged  is  human  nature  —  of  much 
of  modern  life.  It  has  no  solution  of  our  problems 
in  it.  What  has  it  to  do  with  the  true  solution.^ 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thine 

342 


ECCLESIASTES 

heart,  with  all  thy  mind,  and  with  all  thy  strength; 
and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself."  And  what  has  it  to 
do  with  Jesus?  He  said  the  very  opposite:  "He 
that  loveth  his  life,  the  same  shall  lose  it;  he  that 
loseth  his  life,  the  same  shall  find  it."  And  the 
nobleness  of  His  view  is  in  intense  contrast  to  the 
ignominy  of  the  other. 

But  we  are  not  left  to  one  parallel  between  that 
time  and  ours.  There  is  another,  a  more  pleasant 
one  to  make.  It  was  about  this  time  that  there 
also  arose,  during  the  two  centuries  which  preceded 
the  birth  of  Jesus,  a  number  of  apocalyptic  books, 
books  of  revelations,  all  of  which  had  to  do  with  the 
future;  and  one  of  their  main  elements,  indeed  we 
may  say  the  chief  aim  and  purport  of  them  all,  was 
to  foretell,  not  only  the  deliverance  of  Israel  out 
of  their  martyrdom,  but  the  deliverance  of  mankind 
from  evil.  The  overthrow  of  wickedness  was  at 
hand.  A  reign  of  holiness  and  love  was  coming  on 
the  earth.  God  would  come,  in  power  and  glory; 
there  should  be  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth. 
Under  noble  symbols,  both  of  awe  and  beauty,  this 
perfect  state  was  represented;  and  the  redeemed 
and  purified  Israel  was  to  send  its  blessings  over  all 
the  nations  that  should  obey  its  God.  The  book 
called  the  Book  of  Daniel  is  such  a  book,  and  it  is  a 
product  of  this  time.     The  Book  of  Wisdom,  and 

343 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

Others  in  the  Apocrypha,  belong  to  this  time  also; 
and  so  does  the  Book  of  Enoch,  which  is  quoted  in 
the  New  Testament.  And  this  last  book,  if  not 
another  of  the  same  kind,  is  at  the  root  of  a  good  deal 
of  the  Book  of  the  Revelation  with  which  the  New 
Testament  canon  closes  ;  and  especially  of  its  visions 
of  a  regenerated  world,  of  a  new  heaven,  and  a  new 
earth,  and  a  new  Jerusalem.  One  and  all  dwell  upon 
an  ideal  state,  prophesy  a  good  and  glorious  time 
for  man,  recognise  his  present  suffering  as  the  path 
to  his  future  blessedness,  thrill  with  hope  and  faith 
in  his  destiny,  and  are  kindled  with  the  thought  of 
his  continued  life  in  a  restored  and  glorious  universe. 
The  first  clear  mention  of  immortal  life  is  in  the 
Book  of  Daniel. 

Face  to  face  then,  in  that  old  society,  with  the 
declaration  that  all  was  vanity  and  misery  and  death 
in  the  world,  face  to  face  with  the  Book  of  Eccle- 
siastes,  was  the  prophecy  that  the  misery  would 
end  in  joy;  that  the  apparent  vanity  of  the  struggle 
was  to  end  in  a  reality  of  peace ;  that  the  close  of  all 
was  not  death  but  an  unspeakable  richness  of  life; 
that  what  seemed  decay  and  overthrow  was  but  the 
process  whereby  the  New  Jerusalem,  the  perfect 
city,  was  to  come  to  rejoice  and  heal  the  world. 

This  too,  like  Ecclesiastes,  has  its  analogy  in  our 
modern  world.      Indeed,  in  history,  we  never  meet 

344 


ECCLESIASTES 

a  luxurious  and  base  society,  or  a  society  which  has 
sacrificed  its  heart  to  the  idol  of  the  understanding, 
without  also  meeting,  existing  alongside  of  it, 
another  society,  living  simply,  and  believing  in 
noble  emotions  and  impalpable  ideas.  And,  along- 
side with  our  pessimism,  exists  a  great  progressive 
movement  which  prophesies  in  faith  a  just,  free, 
and  lovelier  world.  Even  at  the  beginning  of  this 
century  these  two  opponent  elements  were  set  before 
us  by  two  poets.  Byron's  "  boundless  upas,  the  all- 
blasting  tree,"  had  stricken  the  whole  of  humanity 
with  disease;  and  his  hero,  Childe  Harold,  goes 
through  the  whole  of  Europe,  from  Spain  to  Greece, 
with  the  eyes  and  the  soul  of  the  writer  of  the  Book 
of  Ecclesaistes.  Face  to  face  with  him,  and  sound- 
ing another  trumpet,  one  whose  silver  ringing  has 
uplifted  the  sorrowful  martyrs  and  workers  of  man- 
kind, stood  Shelley;  and  the  spirit  of  the  Book  of 
Daniel  and  the  Book  of  Enoch  spoke  again  in  the 
"Prometheus  Unbound,"  which  sang,  in  exultation, 
of  the  deliverance  of  men  from  the  vulture  of  evil; 
of  Nature  restored  to  beauty,  and  of  Humanity  re- 
generated. What  Shelley  declared  then  is  now 
begun,  before  our  very  eyes,  in  the  prophetic  move- 
ment towards  a  perfect  state,  which,  in  many  varied 
forms  and  pervading  all  classes  of  society,  makes 
the  time  in  which  we  live  so  ideal,  so  excited,  so 

345 


THE   OLD    TESTAMEATTAND   MODERN  LIFE 

full,  SO  kindled,  I  may  even  say,  with  joy  —  because 
its  hope  is  so  deep,  its  faith  so  strong,  its  love  so 
expansive,  and  its  sense  of  life  so  keen. 

These  are  two  sides  of  our  society.  Of  coarse, 
there  is  a  middle  region,  dwelt  in  by  those  who 
quietly  and  faithfully  labour  in  the  present,  not  in 
exhaustion,  nor  in  excited  hope,  but  in  the  still 
doing  of  duty ;  and  these  are  blest,  in  their  way,  and 
bless,  like  rivers,  gentle  and  full,  the  human  race. 
But  they  do  not  belong  to  my  subject  now,  and 
they  need  but  little  praise  or  blame.  They  are 
content  and  untroubled;  but  little  tem.pted,  and 
in  little  difficulty.  Happy  are  they,  if  they  do  not 
settle  too  deeply  down  in  the  calm  harbour  where 
they  lie,  if  they  do  not  lose  interest  in  m.ankind. 
But  the  others,  who  cannot  be  content,  whose 
temper  is  such  as  to  reach  either  scornful  exhaustion 
or  passionate  hope  —  what  of  them  in  this  twofold 
impulse  of  society?     That  is  our  question  now. 

First,  let  me  say  what  cannot  be  too  often  said 
about  these  two  tempers,  when  we  consider  them  as 
national.  It  is  an  historic  experience  that  when  the 
spirit  of  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes  is  not  confined  to 
a  mere  class,  but  seizes  on  all  classes  in  a  people, 
that  people  is  doomed  to  death.  Pessimism,  spread 
over  the  whole,  means  decay,  and  galloping  decay. 
And  this  is  no  wonder,  for  it  is  the  first-born  child 

346 


ECCLESIASTES 

of  that  selfish  luxury  and  wealth  that  recognises  no 
duty  but  its  own  pleasure;  which,  by  its  own  con- 
fession, can  have  no  life  such  as  fills  the  heart  and 
intellect  with  animation,  for  it  says  there  is  nothing 
worth  doing,  that  all  is  vanity.  Therefore,  if  you 
care  for  your  country's  enduring  life,  if  you  wish 
England  still  to  minister  to  the  progress  of  the  world, 
if  you  would  yourself  be  a  living,  growing,  fruit- 
producing  part  of  her;  keep  yourself  apart  from  this 
degraded  temper;  let  no  touch  of  its  sickly  scorn, 
of  its  tainted  indifference,  weaken  your  intellect 
or  disease  your  heart. 

It  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  other  temper  which  befits 
and  exalts  the  soul.  Live,  since  you  must  by  your 
very  nature  live  at  one  extreme  or  other,  live  for  the 
noble  faith  of  a  perfect  humanity  in  the  future ;  live 
for  ideal  hopes,  and  die  contending  for  them.  Faith, 
not  despair,  be  your  leader.  Then,  in  that  deep  and 
noble  relation  to  all  your  fellow-men  which  is  more 
enduring  and  passionate  than  any  which  belongs  to 
friendship  or  home,  you  will  be  a  power  of  joy,  hope, 
and  activity  in  your  nation;  you  will  ennoble  and 
continue  the  worshipful  life  of  England,  even  the 
universal  life  of  man. 

And,  secondly,  to  make  the  matter  more  personal 
than  national,  there  is  this  twofold  temper  in  all  of 
us  who  cannot  lead  the  middle  life  of  which  I  have 

347 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

spoken.  The  impulsive  nature  tends,  through  ex- 
haustion of  impulses,  towards  the  conclusion  that 
the  world  is  an  evil  farce ;  or,  through  the  strengthen- 
ing of  noble  impulses,  towards  the  conclusion  that 
the  world  is  a  battle,  whose  end  is  victory  in  good 
and  sacred  joy  in  life.  Within  us,  in  the  silence  of 
the  soul,  the  battle  of  these  two  tendencies  is  joined, 
day  by  day,  year  by  year.  Which  of  them  shall 
conquer  is  a  solemn  question ;  and  it  beats  heaviest 
at  the  doors  of  youth,  though  youth  does  not  hear 
its  blow  so  clearly  as  age.  How  shall  you  have 
answered  it  when  its  knock  is  no  longer  heard,  and 
it  is  death  who  knocks  in  its  place  t  Which  of  the 
two  shall  have  had  the  conquest  when  you  enter  the 
kingdom  beyond  the  grave  t 

To  ask  the  question,  to  suppose  that  it  can  be 
asked,  means  that  life  is  not  an  affair  of  facile  yield- 
ing, but  of  steadfast  resistance.  Almost  at  every 
step  we  are  tempted  to  join  the  path  which  descends 
easily  to  the  temper  of  those  who  say  in  age,  "  All  is 
vanity."  We  are  tempted  through  the  weakness 
that  is  born  of  ease  and  wealth  and  pleasure; 
through  the  passion  of  getting  our  own  way ;  through 
unbridled  impulse.  Luxury  belongs  perhaps  to  none 
of  us ;  but  the  unchecked  following  of  impulse,  the 
resolution  to  have  whatever  pleases  us,  no  matter 
whom   we   injure  —  no  great  wealth  is    needed  to 

348 


ECCLESIASTES 

create  that  spirit.  It  springs  to  its  evil  life  in  the 
poorest;  and,  wherever  it  is,  it  means  selfishness, 
idleness,  and  decay.  But  after  a  time  it  wearies 
us  to  have  our  own  wish;  we  are  enslaved  by 
our  own  desires;  we  pursue  them  when  all  the 
pleasure  is  gone  out  of  them.  We  are  like  drunk- 
ards who  hate  to  drink,  and  yet  must  go  on.  Weak 
self-injurers  and  injurers  of  others,  degraded  even 
when  we  pursue  after  moderation,  having  drained 
our  desires  dry,  we  sit  by  the  fireside  of  the  heart, 
looking  at  the  burnt  ashes  of  life,  and  saying :  "  How 
mean,  how  vile  it  all  is;  what  folly,  what  a  puppet- 
play,"  and  when  death  runs  down  the  curtain  we  die 
like  a  fool.  That  is  the  natural  end  of  it.  There 
has  been  no  love  of  any  one  but  ourself,  and  where 
there  is  no  love  there  is  sickness  and  shame  of  life. 
And  this  is  the  end  of  one  who  once  aspired  to 
drive  the  horses  of  the  sun,  on  whom  life  shone  like 
a  conquering  banner!  What  a  close  for  a  child  of 
God,  a  brother  of  Jesus,  an  heir  of  immortal  life ! 
May  it  be  another  story  which  we  shall  have  to  tell, 
when  the  snow  of  age  begins  to  drift,  and  we  sit  by 
the  fireside  within  our  heart,  and  think  of  the  days 
gone  by.  Seek  simplicity,  the  life  of  contented 
duties,  duties  set  on  fire  by  love  of  God  and  man. 
Abhor  luxury  with  all  your  soul.  Beneath  her  fine 
garments  lies  a  loathsome  body  and  the  claws  of  a 

349 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

foul  beast ;  but  under  the  homely  robes  of  love  the 
very  body  of  beauty  breathes,  the  home  and  source  of 
joy  that  cannot  be  ashamed.  Seize  love,  and  keep 
her.  She  will  free  you  from  the  curse  of  doing  only 
your  own  will,  thinking  only  of  your  own  self.  Every 
impulse,  every  noble  passion,  will  then  not  be 
crushed,  but  curbed ;  not  made  cold,  but  heated  to  a 
white  heat  by  restraint  —  restraint  which,  inspired 
by  love,  is  immortal  freedom.  The  cry  of  "Vanity 
of  vanities  "  is  lost  in  the  inspiration  of  a  loving 
life,  in  its  unbroken  animation,  in  the  life  of  God 
Himself  within  you.  Yours  will  be  undying  hope 
and  faith  for  man,  a  noble  and  worthy  age.  Death 
will  be  the  door  of  life,  and  the  whole  character  of 
God  your  endless  joy. 

Lastly.  There  is  yet  another  cause  for  this  cry  of 
vanity  of  vanities.  It  is  disillusion.  We  begin 
upbuoyed  by  dreams,  by  hopes  that  have  the  eyes  of 
the  dawn,  by  faith  in  God  and  love  of  man.  Images 
of  the  golden  year  of  humanity  are  with  us,  visions 
of  perfection.  Our  youth  is  as  sweet  with  love  and 
beauty  as  a  garden  of  roses  in  the  summer  noon. 
Suddenly  that  happens  which  turns  it  all  to  black- 
ness and  misery.  Deceived  or  betrayed ;  finding  lies 
where  we  thought  all  was  truth;  hate  or  meanness 
where  we  trusted  in  love  and  believed  in  nobleness; 
we  are  cast  out  into  a  desert  of  disillusion.     Vanity 

350 


ECCLESTASTES 

of  vanities,  we  cry,  all  is  emptiness  and  vileness.  I 
have  been  a  fool ;  I  have  nothing  to  hope  for,  noth- 
ing- to  believe  in,  nothing  to  care  for;  the  pain 
I  bear  alone  proves  that  I  am  alive.  I  keep  it,  but 
deadly  indifference  were  better.  To  be  cool  and 
chili  and  careless,  there  is  peace.  The  vain  show 
will  soon  be  over.     Vileness  of  vileness,  all  is  vile. 

Many  of  us  have  known  it,  and  there  is  no  healing 
for  it  at  first,  but  getting  to  the  bottom  of  it,  and 
tasting  its  very  dregs,  to  their  last  bitterness,  with 
iron  resolution.  But,  when  it  has  been  realised,  it 
is  time  for  that  reserved  strength  which  is  in  all 
of  us,  and  which  is  indeed  the  Spirit  of  God  our 
Father,  to  awake  and  prove  its  power.  We  are 
not  born  to  be  beaten  in  this  fashion  by  life; 
we  are  not  here  to  take  the  coward's  part,  and 
because  we  suffer,  to  surrender.  We  are  not  here 
to  pass  into  the  idleness  of  misery,  or  into  scorn  of 
life  and  mockery  of  effort.  We  must  stand  in  the 
evil  day,  for  love  and  its  beauty,  in  spite  of  the 
betrayal  of  love.  We  must  say :  "  God  is  in  heaven 
and  in  me.  I  '11  cling  to  Him  and  His  hopes,  though 
I  die  for  it.  Man  is  on  earth  and  with  me:  I'll 
live  for  him,  though  every  dream  I  have  seems  to  be 
destroyed.  Whatever  is  wrong,  love  must  be  right ; 
and  I  will  live  for  love." 

This  is  the  right  medicine.      It  heals  the  worst  dis- 
351 


THE   OLD    TESTAMENT  AND  MODERN  LIFE 

illusion,  the  blackest  misery.  Slowly,  as  you  love 
righteousness,  which  is  God;  as  you  love  man  by 
giving  up  thought  of  your  personal  pain  to  look 
after  the  pain  of  others;  —  the  beauty  of  life  will 
return  to  you,  not  the  visionary  fairness  of  youth, 
but  a  more  enduring,  more  beloved  beauty.  And 
with  beauty,  interest  in  the  world,  joy  in  nature, 
are  re-awakened,  charm  is  restored  to  humanity, 
intensity  to  all  things ;  for  indeed  —  now  that  you 
love  everything  but  self- — the  whole  life  of  God,  in 
all  His  infinity,  all  that  He  is  in  man,  the  universe 
that  He  embraces,  and  all  His  rapture  in  it,  is 
beating  in  your  heart.  This  is  victory ;  not  vanity 
of  vanities,  all  is  vanity  ;  but  fullness  of  fullness, 
life  of  life,  perfection  of  perfection. 


352 


DATE  DUE 

,    -  „  g.rffti- 

^IWBWW** 

*'• 

^,»i»— ^r-"'- 

GAYLCRD 

1 

1 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 

